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문학:영문학:영국:키츠 [2020/09/10 00:01] clayeryan@gmail.com [작품목록] |
문학:영문학:영국:키츠 [2023/09/14 23:10] clayeryan@gmail.com |
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줄 7: | 줄 7: | ||
=====작품목록===== | =====작품목록===== | ||
- | ++++ 1. When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be | < | + | ++++ 1. When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be | |
- | ++++ 2. Ode To A Nightingale | < | + | < |
- | ++++ 3. To Autumn | < | + | When I have fears that I may cease to be |
- | ++++ 4. To Hope | < | + | Before my pen has glean' |
- | ++++ 5. Ode To Psyche | < | + | Before high-piled books, in charactery, |
- | ++++ 6. On The Grasshopper And Cricket | < | + | Hold like rich garners the full ripen' |
- | ++++ 7. Ode On A Grecian Urn | < | + | When I behold, upon the night' |
- | ++++ 8. On First Looking Into Chapman' | + | Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, |
- | ++++ 9. La Belle Dame Sans Merci | < | + | And think that I may never live to trace |
- | ++++ 10. To My Brothers | < | + | Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; |
- | ++++ 11. On The Sea | < | + | And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, |
- | ++++ 12. To Sleep | < | + | That I shall never look upon thee more, |
- | ++++ 13. To Solitude | < | + | Never have relish in the faery power |
- | ++++ 14. The Human Seasons | < | + | Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore |
- | ++++ 15. On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour | < | + | Of the wide world I stand alone, and think |
- | ++++ 16. In Drear-Nighted December | < | + | Till love and fame to nothingness do sink |
- | ++++ 17. Ode On Melancholy | < | + | |
- | ++++ 18. Hyperion | < | + | **내가 더 이상 존재하지 않을 수도 있다는 두려움이 있을 때** |
- | ++++ 19. To My Brother George | < | + | |
- | ++++ 20. The Eve Of St. Agnes | < | + | 내가 더 이상 존재하지 않을 것 같은 두려움을 가질 때 |
- | ++++ 21. Lines | < | + | 내 펜이 나의 머리를 훔치기도 전에, |
- | ++++ 22. Ode On Indolence | < | + | 책이 활자로 채워지기 전에, |
- | ++++ 23. Endymion: Book I | < | + | 기름진 곡식을 풍족하게 거두어들이시며; |
- | ++++ 24. Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast As Thou Art | < | + | 내가 밤의 별에 지는 얼굴을 봤을 때, |
- | ++++ 25. Robin Hood | < | + | 거대한 구름 모양의 로맨스는, |
- | ++++ 26. On Fame | < | + | 내가 결코 그 흔적을 찾을 수 없을거라고 생각하게 합니다 |
- | ++++ 27. On Seeing The Elgin Marbles For The First Time | < | + | 그들의 그림자, 우연이 가져온 마법의 손으로; |
- | ++++ 28. Why Did I Laugh Tonight? No Voice Will Tell | < | + | 그리고 내가 생명체와 함께 했던 시간속에, |
- | ++++ 29. To A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses | < | + | 당신을 더 이상 볼 수 없을 거라고, |
- | ++++ 30. Happy Is England! I Could Be Content | < | + | 요정의 힘을 빌리지 못한 사랑을 |
- | ++++ 31. Epistle To My Brother George | < | + | 반성하지 않을 것입니다.; |
- | ++++ 32. Written On A Summer Evening | < | + | 넓은 세상에서 나는 홀로 서서 생각합니다 |
- | ++++ 33. The Day Is Gone, And All Its Sweets Are Gone | < | + | 사랑과 명성이 무위로 가라앉을 때까지 |
- | ++++ 34. To A Young Lady Who Sent Me A Laurel Crown | < | + | |
- | ++++ 35. Hither, Hither, Love | < | + | </ |
- | ++++ 36. O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell | < | + | ++++ 2. Ode To A Nightingale | |
- | ++++ 37. If By Dull Rhymes Our English Must Be Chain' | + | < |
- | ++++ 38. Hymn To Apollo | < | + | My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, |
- | ++++ 39. On Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again | < | + | Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains |
- | ++++ 40. To Fanny | < | + | One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: |
- | ++++ 41. Endymion: Book IV | < | + | 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, |
- | ++++ 42. A Dream, After Reading Dante' | + | But being too happy in thine happiness, |
- | ++++ 43. Meg Merrilies | < | + | That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees |
- | ++++ 44. Think Of It Not, Sweet One | < | + | In some melodious plot |
- | ++++ 45. Ode To Autumn | < | + | Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, |
- | ++++ 46. To The Nile | < | + | Singest of summer in full-throated ease. |
- | ++++ 47. Endymion: Book III | < | + | |
- | ++++ 48. Addressed To Haydon | < | + | O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been |
- | ++++ 49. Endymion: Book II | < | + | Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, |
- | ++++ 50. O Blush Not So! | < | + | Tasting of Flora and the country green, |
- | ++++ 51. Where Be Ye Going, You Devon Maid? | + | Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! |
- | ++++ 52. Isabella or The Pot of Basil | < | + | O for a beaker full of the warm South, |
- | ++++ 53. To— | < | + | Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, |
- | ++++ 54. To Homer | < | + | With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, |
- | ++++ 55. Answer To A Sonnet By J.H.Reynolds | < | + | And purple-stained mouth; |
- | ++++ 56. Written On The Day That Mr Leigh Hunt Left Prison | < | + | That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, |
- | ++++ 57. Lines On The Mermaid Tavern | < | + | And with thee fade away into the forest dim: |
- | ++++ 58. To One Who Has Been Long In City Pent | < | + | |
- | ++++ 59. This Living Hand | < | + | Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget |
- | ++++ 60. A Thing of Beauty (Endymion) | < | + | What thou among the leaves hast never known, |
- | ++++ 61. How Many Bards Gild The Lapses Of Time! | < | + | The weariness, the fever, and the fret |
- | ++++ 62. To John Hamilton Reynolds | < | + | Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; |
- | ++++ 63. To Ailsa Rock | < | + | Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, |
- | ++++ 64. Written Before Re-Reading King Lear | < | + | Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, |
- | ++++ 65. Written On A Blank Space At The End Of Chaucer' | + | Where but to think is to be full of sorrow |
- | ++++ 66. Written On A Blank Space At The End Of Chaucer' | + | And leaden-eyed despairs, |
- | ++++ 67. To Haydon | < | + | Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, |
- | ++++ 68. To G.A.W. | < | + | Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. |
- | ++++ 69. Give Me Women, Wine, and Snuff | < | + | |
- | ++++ 70. His Last Sonnet | < | + | Away! away! for I will fly to thee, |
- | ++++ 71. Last Sonnet | < | + | Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, |
- | ++++ 72. Fancy | < | + | But on the viewless wings of Poesy, |
- | ++++ 73. Fill For Me A Brimming Bowl | < | + | Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: |
- | ++++ 74. To Byron | < | + | Already with thee! tender is the night, |
- | ++++ 75. Ode to Fanny | < | + | And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, |
- | ++++ 76. Where' | + | Cluster' |
- | ++++ 77. Stanzas | < | + | But here there is no light, |
- | ++++ 78. Song of the Indian Maid, from ' | + | Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown |
- | ++++ 79. Song of the Indian Maid, from ' | + | Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. |
- | ++++ 80. Keen, Fitful Gusts are Whisp' | + | |
- | ++++ 81. To Mrs Reynolds' | + | I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, |
- | ++++ 82. Fragment of an Ode to Maia | < | + | Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, |
- | ++++ 83. Lines from Endymion | < | + | But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet |
- | ++++ 84. Bards of Passion and of Mirth, written on the Blank Page before Beaumont and Fletcher' | + | Wherewith the seasonable month endows |
+ | The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; | ||
+ | White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; | ||
+ | Fast fading violets cover' | ||
+ | And mid-May' | ||
+ | The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, | ||
+ | The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Darkling I listen; and, for many a time | ||
+ | I have been half in love with easeful Death, | ||
+ | Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, | ||
+ | To take into the air my quiet breath; | ||
+ | Now more than ever seems it rich to die, | ||
+ | To cease upon the midnight with no pain, | ||
+ | While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad | ||
+ | In such an ecstasy! | ||
+ | Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain-- | ||
+ | To thy high requiem become a sod. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! | ||
+ | No hungry generations tread thee down; | ||
+ | The voice I hear this passing night was heard | ||
+ | In ancient days by emperor and clown: | ||
+ | Perhaps the self-same song that found a path | ||
+ | Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, | ||
+ | She stood in tears amid the alien corn; | ||
+ | The same that oft-times hath | ||
+ | Charm' | ||
+ | Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Forlorn! the very word is like a bell | ||
+ | To toll me back from thee to my sole self! | ||
+ | Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well | ||
+ | As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. | ||
+ | Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades | ||
+ | Past the near meadows, over the still stream, | ||
+ | Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep | ||
+ | In the next valley-glades: | ||
+ | Was it a vision, or a waking dream? | ||
+ | Fled is that music:--Do I wake or sleep? | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 3. To Autumn | | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, | ||
+ | Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; | ||
+ | Conspiring with him how to load and bless | ||
+ | With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; | ||
+ | To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, | ||
+ | And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; | ||
+ | To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells | ||
+ | With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, | ||
+ | And still more, later flowers for the bees, | ||
+ | Until they think warm days will never cease, | ||
+ | For Summer has o' | ||
+ | |||
+ | II | ||
+ | Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? | ||
+ | Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find | ||
+ | Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, | ||
+ | Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; | ||
+ | Or on a half-reap' | ||
+ | Drows' | ||
+ | Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: | ||
+ | And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep | ||
+ | Steady thy laden head across a brook; | ||
+ | Or by a cyder-press, | ||
+ | Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours. | ||
+ | |||
+ | III | ||
+ | Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? | ||
+ | Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-- | ||
+ | While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, | ||
+ | And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; | ||
+ | Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn | ||
+ | Among the river sallows, borne aloft | ||
+ | Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; | ||
+ | And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; | ||
+ | Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft | ||
+ | The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; | ||
+ | And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 4. To Hope | | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; | ||
+ | When no fair dreams before my " | ||
+ | And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; | ||
+ | Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, | ||
+ | And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Whene' | ||
+ | Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray, | ||
+ | Should sad Despondency my musings fright, | ||
+ | And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away, | ||
+ | Peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof, | ||
+ | And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Should Disappointment, | ||
+ | Strive for her son to seize my careless heart; | ||
+ | When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air, | ||
+ | Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart: | ||
+ | Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright, | ||
+ | And fright him as the morning frightens night! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Whene' | ||
+ | Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow, | ||
+ | O bright-eyed Hope, my morbidfancy cheer; | ||
+ | Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow: | ||
+ | Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed, | ||
+ | And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Should e'er unhappy love my bosom pain, | ||
+ | From cruel parents, or relentless fair; | ||
+ | O let me think it is not quite in vain | ||
+ | To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air! | ||
+ | Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, | ||
+ | And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head! | ||
+ | |||
+ | In the long vista of the years to roll, | ||
+ | Let me not see our country' | ||
+ | O let me see our land retain her soul, | ||
+ | Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom' | ||
+ | From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed--- | ||
+ | Beneath thy pinions canopy my head! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Let me not see the patriot' | ||
+ | Great Liberty! how great in plain attire! | ||
+ | With the base purple of a court oppress' | ||
+ | Bowing her head, and ready to expire: | ||
+ | But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings | ||
+ | That fill the skies with silver glitterings! | ||
+ | |||
+ | And as, in sparkling majesty, a star | ||
+ | Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud; | ||
+ | Brightening the half veil'd face of heaven afar: | ||
+ | So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, | ||
+ | Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed, | ||
+ | Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 5. Ode To Psyche | | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung | ||
+ | By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear, | ||
+ | And pardon that thy secrets should be sung | ||
+ | Even into thine own soft-conched ear: | ||
+ | Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see | ||
+ | The winged Psyche with awaken' | ||
+ | I wander' | ||
+ | And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise, | ||
+ | Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side | ||
+ | In deepest grass, beneath the whisp' | ||
+ | Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran | ||
+ | A brooklet, scarce espied: | ||
+ | |||
+ | Mid hush' | ||
+ | Blue, silver-white, | ||
+ | They lay calm-breathing, | ||
+ | Their arms embraced, and their pinions too; | ||
+ | Their lips touch' | ||
+ | As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber, | ||
+ | And ready still past kisses to outnumber | ||
+ | At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love: | ||
+ | The winged boy I knew; | ||
+ | But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove? | ||
+ | His Psyche true! | ||
+ | |||
+ | O latest born and loveliest vision far | ||
+ | Of all Olympus' | ||
+ | Fairer than Ph{oe}be' | ||
+ | Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; | ||
+ | Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, | ||
+ | Nor altar heap'd with flowers; | ||
+ | Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan | ||
+ | Upon the midnight hours; | ||
+ | No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet | ||
+ | From chain-swung censer teeming; | ||
+ | No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat | ||
+ | Of pale-mouth' | ||
+ | |||
+ | O brightest! though too late for antique vows, | ||
+ | Too, too late for the fond believing lyre, | ||
+ | When holy were the haunted forest boughs, | ||
+ | Holy the air, the water, and the fire; | ||
+ | Yet even in these days so far retir' | ||
+ | From happy pieties, thy lucent fans, | ||
+ | Fluttering among the faint Olympians, | ||
+ | I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspir' | ||
+ | So let me be thy choir, and make a moan | ||
+ | Upon the midnight hours; | ||
+ | Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet | ||
+ | From swinged censer teeming; | ||
+ | Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat | ||
+ | Of pale-mouth' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane | ||
+ | In some untrodden region of my mind, | ||
+ | Where branched thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain, | ||
+ | Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind: | ||
+ | Far, far around shall those dark-cluster' | ||
+ | Fledge the wild-ridged mountains steep by steep; | ||
+ | And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees, | ||
+ | The moss-lain Dryads shall be lull'd to sleep; | ||
+ | And in the midst of this wide quietness | ||
+ | A rosy sanctuary will I dress | ||
+ | With the wreath' | ||
+ | With buds, and bells, and stars without a name, | ||
+ | With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign, | ||
+ | Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same: | ||
+ | And there shall be for thee all soft delight | ||
+ | That shadowy thought can win, | ||
+ | A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, | ||
+ | To let the warm Love in! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 6. On The Grasshopper And Cricket | | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | The poetry of earth is never dead: | ||
+ | When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, | ||
+ | And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run | ||
+ | From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; | ||
+ | That is the Grasshopper' | ||
+ | In summer luxury, | ||
+ | With his delights; for when tired out with fun | ||
+ | He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed. | ||
+ | The poetry of earth is ceasing never: | ||
+ | On a lone winter evening, when the frost | ||
+ | Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills | ||
+ | The Cricket' | ||
+ | And seems to one in drowsiness half lost, | ||
+ | The Grasshopper' | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 7. Ode On A Grecian Urn | | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | Thou still unravish' | ||
+ | Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, | ||
+ | Sylvan historian, who canst thus express | ||
+ | A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: | ||
+ | What leaf-fring' | ||
+ | Of deities or mortals, or of both, | ||
+ | In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? | ||
+ | What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? | ||
+ | What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? | ||
+ | What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? | ||
+ | |||
+ | Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard | ||
+ | Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; | ||
+ | Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear' | ||
+ | Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: | ||
+ | Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave | ||
+ | Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; | ||
+ | Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, | ||
+ | Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve; | ||
+ | She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, | ||
+ | For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed | ||
+ | Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; | ||
+ | And, happy melodist, unwearied, | ||
+ | For ever piping songs for ever new; | ||
+ | More happy love! more happy, happy love! | ||
+ | For ever warm and still to be enjoy' | ||
+ | For ever panting, and for ever young; | ||
+ | All breathing human passion far above, | ||
+ | That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy' | ||
+ | A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Who are these coming to the sacrifice? | ||
+ | To what green altar, O mysterious priest, | ||
+ | Lead' | ||
+ | And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? | ||
+ | What little town by river or sea shore, | ||
+ | Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, | ||
+ | Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? | ||
+ | And, little town, thy streets for evermore | ||
+ | Will silent be; and not a soul to tell | ||
+ | Why thou art desolate, can e'er return. | ||
+ | |||
+ | O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede | ||
+ | Of marble men and maidens overwrought, | ||
+ | With forest branches and the trodden weed; | ||
+ | Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought | ||
+ | As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! | ||
+ | When old age shall this generation waste, | ||
+ | Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe | ||
+ | Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." | ||
+ | |||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 8. On First Looking Into Chapman' | ||
+ | Much have I travell' | ||
+ | And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; | ||
+ | Round many western islands have I been | ||
+ | Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. | ||
+ | Oft of one wide expanse had I been told | ||
+ | That deep-brow' | ||
+ | Yet did I never breathe its pure serene | ||
+ | Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: | ||
+ | Then felt I like some watcher of the skies | ||
+ | When a new planet swims into his ken; | ||
+ | Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes | ||
+ | He star'd at the Pacific--and all his men | ||
+ | Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-- | ||
+ | Silent, upon a peak in Darien. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 9. La Belle Dame Sans Merci | < | ||
+ | Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight, | ||
+ | Alone and palely loitering; | ||
+ | The sedge is wither' | ||
+ | And no birds sing. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight, | ||
+ | So haggard and so woe-begone? | ||
+ | The squirrel' | ||
+ | And the harvest' | ||
+ | |||
+ | I see a lily on thy brow, | ||
+ | With anguish moist and fever dew; | ||
+ | And on thy cheek a fading rose | ||
+ | Fast withereth too. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I met a lady in the meads | ||
+ | Full beautiful, a faery' | ||
+ | Her hair was long, her foot was light, | ||
+ | And her eyes were wild. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I set her on my pacing steed, | ||
+ | And nothing else saw all day long; | ||
+ | For sideways would she lean, and sing | ||
+ | A faery' | ||
+ | |||
+ | I made a garland for her head, | ||
+ | And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; | ||
+ | She look'd at me as she did love, | ||
+ | And made sweet moan. | ||
+ | |||
+ | She found me roots of relish sweet, | ||
+ | And honey wild, and manna dew; | ||
+ | And sure in language strange she said, | ||
+ | I love thee true. | ||
+ | |||
+ | She took me to her elfin grot, | ||
+ | And there she gaz'd and sighed deep, | ||
+ | And there I shut her wild sad eyes-- | ||
+ | So kiss'd to sleep. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And there we slumber' | ||
+ | And there I dream' | ||
+ | The latest dream I ever dream' | ||
+ | On the cold hill side. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I saw pale kings, and princes too, | ||
+ | Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; | ||
+ | Who cry' | ||
+ | Hath thee in thrall!" | ||
+ | |||
+ | I saw their starv' | ||
+ | With horrid warning gaped wide, | ||
+ | And I awoke, and found me here | ||
+ | On the cold hill side. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And this is why I sojourn here | ||
+ | Alone and palely loitering, | ||
+ | Though the sedge is wither' | ||
+ | And no birds sing. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 10. To My Brothers | < | ||
+ | Small, busy flames play through the fresh-laid coals, | ||
+ | And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep | ||
+ | Like whispers of the household gods that keep | ||
+ | A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls. | ||
+ | And while for rhymes I search around the poles, | ||
+ | Your eyes are fixed, as in poetic sleep, | ||
+ | Upon the lore so voluble and deep, | ||
+ | That aye at fall of night our care condoles. | ||
+ | This is your birthday, Tom, and I rejoice | ||
+ | That thus it passes smoothly, quietly: | ||
+ | Many such eves of gently whispering noise | ||
+ | May we together pass, and calmly try | ||
+ | What are this world' | ||
+ | From its fair face shall bid our spirits fly. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 11. On The Sea | < | ||
+ | It keeps eternal whisperings around | ||
+ | Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell | ||
+ | Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell | ||
+ | Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound. | ||
+ | Often 'tis in such gentle temper found, | ||
+ | That scarcely will the very smallest shell | ||
+ | Be moved for days from whence it sometime fell, | ||
+ | When last the winds of heaven were unbound. | ||
+ | Oh ye! who have your eye-balls vexed and tired, | ||
+ | Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea; | ||
+ | Oh ye! whose ears are dinned with uproar rude, | ||
+ | Or fed too much with cloying melody, | ||
+ | Sit ye near some old cavern' | ||
+ | Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs choired! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 12. To Sleep | < | ||
+ | O soft embalmer of the still midnight, | ||
+ | Shutting, with careful fingers and benign, | ||
+ | Our gloom-pleas' | ||
+ | Enshaded in forgetfulness divine: | ||
+ | O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close | ||
+ | In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes, | ||
+ | Or wait the " | ||
+ | Around my bed its lulling charities. | ||
+ | Then save me, or the passed day will shine | ||
+ | Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,-- | ||
+ | Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords | ||
+ | Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; | ||
+ | Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, | ||
+ | And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 13. To Solitude | < | ||
+ | O solitude! if I must with thee dwell, | ||
+ | Let it not be among the jumbled heap | ||
+ | Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,— | ||
+ | Nature' | ||
+ | Its flowery slopes, its river' | ||
+ | May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep | ||
+ | ' | ||
+ | Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell. | ||
+ | But though I'll gladly trace these scenes with thee, | ||
+ | Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind, | ||
+ | Whose words are images of thoughts refin' | ||
+ | Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be | ||
+ | Almost the highest bliss of human-kind, | ||
+ | When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 14. The Human Seasons | < | ||
+ | Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; | ||
+ | There are four seasons in the mind of man: | ||
+ | He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear | ||
+ | Takes in all beauty with an easy span: | ||
+ | He has his Summer, when luxuriously | ||
+ | Spring' | ||
+ | To ruminate, and by such dreaming high | ||
+ | Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves | ||
+ | His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings | ||
+ | He furleth close; contented so to look | ||
+ | On mists in idleness--to let fair things | ||
+ | Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook. | ||
+ | He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, | ||
+ | Or else he would forego his mortal nature. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 15. On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour | < | ||
+ | Give me a golden pen, and let me lean | ||
+ | On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; | ||
+ | Bring me a tablet whiter than a star, | ||
+ | Or hand of hymning angel, when 'tis seen | ||
+ | The silver strings of heavenly harp atween: | ||
+ | And let there glide by many a pearly car | ||
+ | Pink robes, and wavy hair, and diamond jar, | ||
+ | And half-discovered wings, and glances keen. | ||
+ | The while let music wander round my ears, | ||
+ | And as it reaches each delicious ending, | ||
+ | Let me write down a line of glorious tone, | ||
+ | And full of many wonders of the spheres: | ||
+ | For what a height my spirit is contending! | ||
+ | 'Tis not content so soon to be alone. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 16. In Drear-Nighted December | < | ||
+ | Too happy, happy tree, | ||
+ | Thy branches ne'er remember | ||
+ | Their green felicity: | ||
+ | The north cannot undo them | ||
+ | With a sleety whistle through them; | ||
+ | Nor frozen thawings glue them | ||
+ | From budding at the prime. | ||
+ | |||
+ | In drear-nighted December, | ||
+ | Too happy, happy brook, | ||
+ | Thy bubblings ne'er remember | ||
+ | Apollo' | ||
+ | But with a sweet forgetting, | ||
+ | They stay their crystal fretting, | ||
+ | Never, never petting | ||
+ | About the frozen time. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ah! would 'twere so with many | ||
+ | A gentle girl and boy! | ||
+ | But were there ever any | ||
+ | Writhed not at passed joy? | ||
+ | The feel of not to feel it, | ||
+ | When there is none to heal it | ||
+ | Nor numbed sense to steel it, | ||
+ | Was never said in rhyme. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 17. Ode On Melancholy | < | ||
+ | Wolf' | ||
+ | Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss' | ||
+ | By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; | ||
+ | Make not your rosary of yew-berries, | ||
+ | Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be | ||
+ | Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl | ||
+ | A partner in your sorrow' | ||
+ | For shade to shade will come too drowsily, | ||
+ | And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul. | ||
+ | |||
+ | But when the melancholy fit shall fall | ||
+ | Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, | ||
+ | That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, | ||
+ | And hides the green hill in an April shroud; | ||
+ | Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, | ||
+ | Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave, | ||
+ | Or on the wealth of globed peonies; | ||
+ | Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, | ||
+ | Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave, | ||
+ | And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes. | ||
+ | |||
+ | She dwells with Beauty--Beauty that must die; | ||
+ | And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips | ||
+ | Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, | ||
+ | Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips: | ||
+ | Ay, in the very temple of Delight | ||
+ | Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, | ||
+ | Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue | ||
+ | Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; | ||
+ | His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might, | ||
+ | And be among her cloudy trophies hung. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 18. Hyperion | < | ||
+ | Deep in the shady sadness of a vale | ||
+ | Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, | ||
+ | Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star, | ||
+ | Sat gray-hair' | ||
+ | Still as the silence round about his lair; | ||
+ | Forest on forest hung above his head | ||
+ | Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, | ||
+ | Not so much life as on a summer' | ||
+ | Robs not one light seed from the feather' | ||
+ | But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest. | ||
+ | A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more | ||
+ | By reason of his fallen divinity | ||
+ | Spreading a shade: the Naiad 'mid her reeds | ||
+ | Press' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Along the margin-sand large foot-marks went, | ||
+ | No further than to where his feet had stray' | ||
+ | And slept there since. Upon the sodden ground | ||
+ | His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead, | ||
+ | Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were closed; | ||
+ | While his bow'd head seem'd list' | ||
+ | His ancient mother, for some comfort yet. | ||
+ | |||
+ | It seem'd no force could wake him from his place; | ||
+ | But there came one, who with a kindred hand | ||
+ | Touch' | ||
+ | With reverence, though to one who knew it not. | ||
+ | She was a Goddess of the infant world; | ||
+ | By her in stature the tall Amazon | ||
+ | Had stood a pigmy' | ||
+ | Achilles by the hair and bent his neck; | ||
+ | Or with a finger stay'd Ixion' | ||
+ | Her face was large as that of Memphian sphinx, | ||
+ | Pedestal' | ||
+ | When sages look'd to Egypt for their lore. | ||
+ | But oh! how unlike marble was that face: | ||
+ | How beautiful, if sorrow had not made | ||
+ | Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty' | ||
+ | There was a listening fear in her regard, | ||
+ | As if calamity had but begun; | ||
+ | As if the vanward clouds of evil days | ||
+ | Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear | ||
+ | Was with its stored thunder labouring up. | ||
+ | One hand she press' | ||
+ | Where beats the human heart, as if just there, | ||
+ | Though an immortal, she felt cruel pain: | ||
+ | The other upon Saturn' | ||
+ | She laid, and to the level of his ear | ||
+ | Leaning with parted lips, some words she spake | ||
+ | In solemn tenor and deep organ tone: | ||
+ | Some mourning words, which in our feeble tongue | ||
+ | Would come in these like accents; O how frail | ||
+ | To that large utterance of the early Gods! | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | I have no comfort for thee, no not one: | ||
+ | I cannot say, 'O wherefore sleepest thou?' | ||
+ | For heaven is parted from thee, and the earth | ||
+ | Knows thee not, thus afflicted, for a God; | ||
+ | And ocean too, with all its solemn noise, | ||
+ | Has from thy sceptre pass' | ||
+ | Is emptied of thine hoary majesty. | ||
+ | Thy thunder, conscious of the new command, | ||
+ | Rumbles reluctant o'er our fallen house; | ||
+ | And thy sharp lightning in unpractised hands | ||
+ | Scorches and burns our once serene domain. | ||
+ | O aching time! O moments big as years! | ||
+ | All as ye pass swell out the monstrous truth, | ||
+ | And press it so upon our weary griefs | ||
+ | That unbelief has not a space to breathe. | ||
+ | Saturn, sleep on:---O thoughtless, | ||
+ | Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude? | ||
+ | Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes? | ||
+ | Saturn, sleep on! while at thy feet I weep." | ||
+ | |||
+ | As when, upon a tranced summer-night, | ||
+ | Those green-rob' | ||
+ | Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, | ||
+ | Dream, and so dream all night without a stir, | ||
+ | Save from one gradual solitary gust | ||
+ | Which comes upon the silence, and dies off, | ||
+ | As if the ebbing air had but one wave; | ||
+ | So came these words and went; the while in tears | ||
+ | She touch' | ||
+ | Just where her fallen hair might be outspread | ||
+ | A soft and silken mat for Saturn' | ||
+ | One moon, with alteration slow, had shed | ||
+ | Her silver seasons four upon the night, | ||
+ | And still these two were postured motionless, | ||
+ | Like natural sculpture in cathedral cavern; | ||
+ | The frozen God still couchant on the earth, | ||
+ | And the sad Goddess weeping at his feet: | ||
+ | Until at length old Saturn lifted up | ||
+ | His faded eyes, and saw his kingdom gone, | ||
+ | And all the gloom and sorrow ofthe place, | ||
+ | And that fair kneeling Goddess; and then spake, | ||
+ | As with a palsied tongue, and while his beard | ||
+ | Shook horrid with such aspen-malady: | ||
+ | "O tender spouse of gold Hyperion, | ||
+ | Thea, I feel thee ere I see thy face; | ||
+ | Look up, and let me see our doom in it; | ||
+ | Look up, and tell me if this feeble shape | ||
+ | Is Saturn' | ||
+ | Of Saturn; tell me, if this wrinkling brow, | ||
+ | Naked and bare of its great diadem, | ||
+ | Peers like the front of Saturn? Who had power | ||
+ | To make me desolate? Whence came the strength? | ||
+ | How was it nurtur' | ||
+ | While Fate seem'd strangled in my nervous grasp? | ||
+ | But it is so; and I am smother' | ||
+ | And buried from all godlike exercise | ||
+ | Of influence benign on planets pale, | ||
+ | Of admonitions to the winds and seas, | ||
+ | Of peaceful sway above man's harvesting, | ||
+ | And all those acts which Deity supreme | ||
+ | Doth ease its heart of love in.---I am gone | ||
+ | Away from my own bosom: I have left | ||
+ | My strong identity, my real self, | ||
+ | Somewhere between the throne, and where I sit | ||
+ | Here on this spot of earth. Search, Thea, search! | ||
+ | Open thine eyes eterne, and sphere them round | ||
+ | Upon all space: space starr' | ||
+ | Space region' | ||
+ | Spaces of fire, and all the yawn of hell.--- | ||
+ | Search, Thea, search! and tell me, if thou seest | ||
+ | A certain shape or shadow, making way | ||
+ | With wings or chariot fierce to repossess | ||
+ | A heaven he lost erewhile: it must---it must | ||
+ | Be of ripe progress---Saturn must be King. | ||
+ | Yes, there must be a golden victory; | ||
+ | There must be Gods thrown down, and trumpets blown | ||
+ | Of triumph calm, and hymns of festival | ||
+ | Upon the gold clouds metropolitan, | ||
+ | Voices of soft proclaim, and silver stir | ||
+ | Of strings in hollow shells; and there shall be | ||
+ | Beautiful things made new, for the surprise | ||
+ | Of the sky-children; | ||
+ | Thea! Thea! Thea! where is Saturn?" | ||
+ | This passion lifted him upon his feet, | ||
+ | And made his hands to struggle in the air, | ||
+ | His Druid locks to shake and ooze with sweat, | ||
+ | His eyes to fever out, his voice to cease. | ||
+ | He stood, and heard not Thea's sobbing deep; | ||
+ | A little time, and then again he snatch' | ||
+ | Utterance thus.---" | ||
+ | Cannot I form? Cannot I fashion forth | ||
+ | Another world, another universe, | ||
+ | To overbear and crumble this to nought? | ||
+ | Where is another Chaos? Where?" | ||
+ | Found way unto Olympus, and made quake | ||
+ | The rebel three.---Thea was startled up, | ||
+ | And in her bearing was a sort of hope, | ||
+ | As thus she quick-voic' | ||
+ | |||
+ | "This cheers our fallen house: come to our friends, | ||
+ | O Saturn! come away, and give them heart; | ||
+ | I know the covert, for thence came I hither." | ||
+ | Thus brief; then with beseeching eyes she went | ||
+ | With backward footing through the shade a space: | ||
+ | He follow' | ||
+ | Through aged boughs, that yielded like the mist | ||
+ | Which eagles cleave upmounting from their nest. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Meanwhile in other realms big tears were shed, | ||
+ | More sorrow like to this, and such like woe, | ||
+ | Too huge for mortal tongue or pen of scribe: | ||
+ | The Titans fierce, self-hid, or prison-bound, | ||
+ | Groan' | ||
+ | And listen' | ||
+ | But one of the whole mammoth-brood still kept | ||
+ | His sov' | ||
+ | Blazing Hyperion on his orbed fire | ||
+ | Still sat, still snuff' | ||
+ | From man to the sun's God: yet unsecure: | ||
+ | For as among us mortals omens drear | ||
+ | Fright and perplex, so also shuddered he--- | ||
+ | Not at dog's howl, or gloom-bird' | ||
+ | Or the familiar visiting of one | ||
+ | Upon the first toll of his passing-bell, | ||
+ | Or prophesyings of the midnight lamp; | ||
+ | But horrors, portion' | ||
+ | Oft made Hyperion ache. His palace bright, | ||
+ | Bastion' | ||
+ | And touch' | ||
+ | Glar'd a blood-red through all its thousand courts, | ||
+ | Arches, and domes, and fiery galleries; | ||
+ | And all its curtains of Aurorian clouds | ||
+ | Flush' | ||
+ | Unseen before by Gods or wondering men, | ||
+ | Darken' | ||
+ | Not heard before by Gods or wondering men. | ||
+ | Also, when he would taste the spicy wreaths | ||
+ | Of incense, breath' | ||
+ | Instead of sweets, his ample palate took | ||
+ | Savor of poisonous brass and metal sick: | ||
+ | And so, when harbor' | ||
+ | After the full completion of fair day,--- | ||
+ | For rest divine upon exalted couch, | ||
+ | And slumber in the arms of melody, | ||
+ | He pac'd away the pleasant hours of ease | ||
+ | With stride colossal, on from hall to hall; | ||
+ | While far within each aisle and deep recess, | ||
+ | His winged minions in close clusters stood, | ||
+ | Amaz'd and full offear; like anxious men | ||
+ | Who on wide plains gather in panting troops, | ||
+ | When earthquakes jar their battlements and towers. | ||
+ | Even now, while Saturn, rous'd from icy trance, | ||
+ | Went step for step with Thea through the woods, | ||
+ | Hyperion, leaving twilight in the rear, | ||
+ | Came slope upon the threshold of the west; | ||
+ | Then, as was wont, his palace-door flew ope | ||
+ | In smoothest silence, save what solemn tubes, | ||
+ | Blown by the serious Zephyrs, gave of sweet | ||
+ | And wandering sounds, slow-breathed melodies; | ||
+ | And like a rose in vermeil tint and shape, | ||
+ | In fragrance soft, and coolness to the eye, | ||
+ | That inlet to severe magnificence | ||
+ | Stood full blown, for the God to enter in. | ||
+ | |||
+ | He enter' | ||
+ | His flaming robes stream' | ||
+ | And gave a roar, as if of earthly fire, | ||
+ | That scar'd away the meek ethereal Hours | ||
+ | And made their dove-wings tremble. On he flared | ||
+ | From stately nave to nave, from vault to vault, | ||
+ | Through bowers of fragrant and enwreathed light, | ||
+ | And diamond-paved lustrous long arcades, | ||
+ | Until he reach' | ||
+ | There standing fierce beneath, he stampt his foot, | ||
+ | And from the basements deep to the high towers | ||
+ | Jarr'd his own golden region; and before | ||
+ | The quavering thunder thereupon had ceas' | ||
+ | His voice leapt out, despite of godlike curb, | ||
+ | To this result: "O dreams of day and night! | ||
+ | O monstrous forms! O effigies of pain! | ||
+ | O spectres busy in a cold, cold gloom! | ||
+ | O lank-eared phantoms of black-weeded pools! | ||
+ | Why do I know ye? why have I seen ye? why | ||
+ | Is my eternal essence thus distraught | ||
+ | To see and to behold these horrors new? | ||
+ | Saturn is fallen, am I too to fall? | ||
+ | Am I to leave this haven of my rest, | ||
+ | This cradle of my glory, this soft clime, | ||
+ | This calm luxuriance of blissful light, | ||
+ | These crystalline pavilions, and pure fanes, | ||
+ | Of all my lucent empire? It is left | ||
+ | Deserted, void, nor any haunt of mine. | ||
+ | The blaze, the splendor, and the symmetry, | ||
+ | I cannot see but darkness, death, and darkness. | ||
+ | Even here, into my centre of repose, | ||
+ | The shady visions come to domineer, | ||
+ | Insult, and blind, and stifle up my pomp.--- | ||
+ | Fall!---No, by Tellus and her briny robes! | ||
+ | Over the fiery frontier of my realms | ||
+ | I will advance a terrible right arm | ||
+ | Shall scare that infant thunderer, rebel Jove, | ||
+ | And bid old Saturn take his throne again." | ||
+ | He spake, and ceas' | ||
+ | Held struggle with his throat but came not forth; | ||
+ | For as in theatres of crowded men | ||
+ | Hubbub increases more they call out " | ||
+ | So at Hyperion' | ||
+ | Bestirr' | ||
+ | And from the mirror' | ||
+ | A mist arose, as from a scummy marsh. | ||
+ | At this, through all his bulk an agony | ||
+ | Crept gradual, from the feet unto the crown, | ||
+ | Like a lithe serpent vast and muscular | ||
+ | Making slow way, with head and neck convuls' | ||
+ | From over-strained might. Releas' | ||
+ | To the eastern gates, and full six dewy hours | ||
+ | Before the dawn in season due should blush, | ||
+ | He breath' | ||
+ | Clear' | ||
+ | Suddenly on the ocean' | ||
+ | The planet orb of fire, whereon he rode | ||
+ | Each day from east to west the heavens through, | ||
+ | Spun round in sable curtaining of clouds; | ||
+ | Not therefore veiled quite, blindfold, and hid, | ||
+ | But ever and anon the glancing spheres, | ||
+ | Circles, and arcs, and broad-belting colure, | ||
+ | Glow'd through, and wrought upon the muffling dark | ||
+ | Sweet-shaped lightnings from the nadir deep | ||
+ | Up to the zenith, | ||
+ | Which sages and keen-eyed astrologers | ||
+ | Then living on the earth, with laboring thought | ||
+ | Won from the gaze of many centuries: | ||
+ | Now lost, save what we find on remnants huge | ||
+ | Of stone, or rnarble swart; their import gone, | ||
+ | Their wisdom long since fled.---Two wings this orb | ||
+ | Possess' | ||
+ | Ever exalted at the God's approach: | ||
+ | And now, from forth the gloom their plumes immense | ||
+ | Rose, one by one, till all outspreaded were; | ||
+ | While still the dazzling globe maintain' | ||
+ | Awaiting for Hyperion' | ||
+ | Fain would he have commanded, fain took throne | ||
+ | And bid the day begin, if but for change. | ||
+ | He might not:---No, though a primeval God: | ||
+ | The sacred seasons might not be disturb' | ||
+ | Therefore the operations of the dawn | ||
+ | Stay'd in their birth, even as here 'tis told. | ||
+ | Those silver wings expanded sisterly, | ||
+ | Eager to sail their orb; the porches wide | ||
+ | Open'd upon the dusk demesnes of night | ||
+ | And the bright Titan, phrenzied with new woes, | ||
+ | Unus'd to bend, by hard compulsion bent | ||
+ | His spirit to the sorrow of the time; | ||
+ | And all along a dismal rack of clouds, | ||
+ | Upon the boundaries of day and night, | ||
+ | He stretch' | ||
+ | There as he lay, the Heaven with its stars | ||
+ | Look'd down on him with pity, and the voice | ||
+ | Of Coelus, from the universal space, | ||
+ | Thus whisper' | ||
+ | "O brightest of my children dear, earth-born | ||
+ | And sky-engendered, | ||
+ | All unrevealed even to the powers | ||
+ | Which met at thy creating; at whose joys | ||
+ | And palpitations sweet, and pleasures soft, | ||
+ | I, Coelus, wonder, how they came and whence; | ||
+ | And at the fruits thereof what shapes they be, | ||
+ | Distinct, and visible; symbols divine, | ||
+ | Manifestations of that beauteous life | ||
+ | Diffus' | ||
+ | Of these new-form' | ||
+ | Of these, thy brethren and the Goddesses! | ||
+ | There is sad feud among ye, and rebellion | ||
+ | Of son against his sire. I saw him fall, | ||
+ | I saw my first-born tumbled from his throne! | ||
+ | To me his arms were spread, to me his voice | ||
+ | Found way from forth the thunders round his head! | ||
+ | Pale wox I, and in vapours hid my face. | ||
+ | Art thou, too, near such doom? vague fear there is: | ||
+ | For I have seen my sons most unlike Gods. | ||
+ | Divine ye were created, and divine | ||
+ | In sad demeanour, solemn, undisturb' | ||
+ | Unruffled, like high Gods, ye liv'd and ruled: | ||
+ | Now I behold in you fear, hope, and wrath; | ||
+ | Actions of rage and passion; even as | ||
+ | I see them, on the mortal world beneath, | ||
+ | In men who die.---This is the grief, O son! | ||
+ | Sad sign of ruin, sudden dismay, and fall! | ||
+ | Yet do thou strive; as thou art capable, | ||
+ | As thou canst move about, an evident God; | ||
+ | And canst oppose to each malignant hour | ||
+ | Ethereal presence: | ||
+ | My life is but the life of winds and tides, | ||
+ | No more than winds and tides can I avail:--- | ||
+ | But thou canst.---Be thou therefore in the van | ||
+ | Of circumstance; | ||
+ | Before the tense string murmur.---To the earth! | ||
+ | For there thou wilt find Saturn, and his woes. | ||
+ | Meantime I will keep watch on thy bright sun, | ||
+ | And of thy seasons be a careful nurse." | ||
+ | Ere half this region-whisper had come down, | ||
+ | Hyperion arose, and on the stars | ||
+ | Lifted his curved lids, and kept them wide | ||
+ | Until it ceas' | ||
+ | And still they were the same bright, patient stars. | ||
+ | Then with a slow incline of his broad breast, | ||
+ | Like to a diver in the pearly seas, | ||
+ | Forward he stoop' | ||
+ | And plung' | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | BOOK II | ||
+ | |||
+ | Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings | ||
+ | Hyperion slid into the rustled air, | ||
+ | And Saturn gain'd with Thea that sad place | ||
+ | Where Cybele and the bruised Titans mourn' | ||
+ | It was a den where no insulting light | ||
+ | Could glimmer on their tears; where their own groans | ||
+ | They felt, but heard not, for the solid roar | ||
+ | Of thunderous waterfalls and torrents hoarse, | ||
+ | Pouring a constant bulk, uncertain where. | ||
+ | Crag jutting forth to crag, and rocks that seem' | ||
+ | Ever as if just rising from a sleep, | ||
+ | Forehead to forehead held their monstrous horns; | ||
+ | And thus in thousand hugest phantasies | ||
+ | Made a fit roofing to this nest of woe. | ||
+ | Instead of thrones, hard flint they sat upon, | ||
+ | Couches of rugged stone, and slaty ridge | ||
+ | Stubborn' | ||
+ | Some chain' | ||
+ | Caus, and Gyges, and Briareus, | ||
+ | Typhon, and Dolor, and Porphyrion, | ||
+ | With many more, the brawniest in assault, | ||
+ | Were pent in regions of laborious breath; | ||
+ | Dungeon' | ||
+ | Their clenched teeth still clench' | ||
+ | Lock'd up like veins of metal, crampt and screw' | ||
+ | Without a motion, save of their big hearts | ||
+ | Heaving in pain, and horribly convuls' | ||
+ | With sanguine feverous boiling gurge of pulse. | ||
+ | Mnemosyne was straying in the world; | ||
+ | Far from her moon had Phoebe wandered; | ||
+ | And many else were free to roam abroad, | ||
+ | But for the main, here found they covert drear. | ||
+ | Scarce images of life, one here, one there, | ||
+ | Lay vast and edgeways; like a dismal cirque | ||
+ | Of Druid stones, upon a forlorn moor, | ||
+ | When the chill rain begins at shut of eve, | ||
+ | In dull November, and their chancel vault, | ||
+ | The Heaven itself, is blinded throughout night. | ||
+ | Each one kept shroud, nor to his neighbour gave | ||
+ | Or word, or look, or action of despair. | ||
+ | Creus was one; his ponderous iron mace | ||
+ | Lay by him, and a shatter' | ||
+ | Told of his rage, ere he thus sank and pined. | ||
+ | Iapetus another; in his grasp, | ||
+ | A serpent' | ||
+ | Squeez' | ||
+ | Dead: and because the creature could not spit | ||
+ | Its poison in the eyes of conquering Jove. | ||
+ | Next Cottus: prone he lay, chin uppermost, | ||
+ | As though in pain; for still upon the flint | ||
+ | He ground severe his skull, with open mouth | ||
+ | And eyes at horrid working. Nearest him | ||
+ | Asia, born of most enormous Caf, | ||
+ | Who cost her mother Tellus keener pangs, | ||
+ | Though feminine, than any of her sons: | ||
+ | More thought than woe was in her dusky face, | ||
+ | For she was prophesying of her glory; | ||
+ | And in her wide imagination stood | ||
+ | Palm-shaded temples, and high rival fanes | ||
+ | By Oxus or in Ganges' | ||
+ | Even as Hope upon her anchor leans, | ||
+ | So leant she, not so fair, upon a tusk | ||
+ | Shed from the broadest of her elephants. | ||
+ | Above her, on a crag's uneasy shelve, | ||
+ | Upon his elbow rais' | ||
+ | Shadow' | ||
+ | As grazing ox unworried in the meads; | ||
+ | Now tiger-passion' | ||
+ | He meditated, plotted, and even now | ||
+ | Was hurling mountains in that second war, | ||
+ | Not long delay' | ||
+ | To hide themselves in forms of beast and bird. | ||
+ | Not far hence Atlas; and beside him prone | ||
+ | Phorcus, the sire of Gorgons. Neighbour' | ||
+ | Oceanus, and Tethys, in whose lap | ||
+ | Sobb'd Clymene among her tangled hair. | ||
+ | In midst of all lay Themis, at the feet | ||
+ | Of Ops the queen; all clouded round from sight, | ||
+ | No shape distinguishable, | ||
+ | Thick night confounds the pine-tops with the clouds: | ||
+ | And many else whose names may not be told. | ||
+ | For when the Muse's wings are air-ward spread, | ||
+ | Who shall delay her flight? And she must chaunt | ||
+ | Of Saturn, and his guide, who now had climb' | ||
+ | With damp and slippery footing from a depth | ||
+ | More horrid still. Above a sombre cliff | ||
+ | Their heads appear' | ||
+ | Till on the level height their steps found ease: | ||
+ | Then Thea spread abroad her trembling arms | ||
+ | Upon the precincts of this nest of pain, | ||
+ | And sidelong fix'd her eye on Saturn' | ||
+ | There saw she direst strife; the supreme God | ||
+ | At war with all the frailty of grief, | ||
+ | Of rage, of fear, anxiety, revenge, | ||
+ | Remorse, spleen, hope, but most of all despair. | ||
+ | Against these plagues he strove in vain; for Fate | ||
+ | Had pour'd a mortal oil upon his head, | ||
+ | A disanointing poison: so that Thea, | ||
+ | Affrighted, kept her still, and let him pass | ||
+ | First onwards in, among the fallen tribe. | ||
+ | |||
+ | As with us mortal men, the laden heart | ||
+ | Is persecuted more, and fever' | ||
+ | When it is nighing to the mournful house | ||
+ | Where other hearts are sick of the same bruise; | ||
+ | So Saturn, as he walk'd into the midst, | ||
+ | Felt faint, and would have sunk among the rest, | ||
+ | But that he met Enceladus' | ||
+ | Whose mightiness, and awe of him, at once | ||
+ | Came like an inspiration; | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Some started on their feet; some also shouted; | ||
+ | Some wept, some wail' | ||
+ | And Ops, uplifting her black folded veil, | ||
+ | Show'd her pale cheeks, and all her forehead wan, | ||
+ | Her eye-brows thin and jet, and hollow eyes. | ||
+ | There is a roaring in the bleak-grown pines | ||
+ | When Winter lifts his voice; there is a noise | ||
+ | Among immortals when a God gives sign, | ||
+ | With hushing finger, how he means to load | ||
+ | His tongue with the filll weight of utterless thought, | ||
+ | With thunder, and with music, and with pomp: | ||
+ | Such noise is like the roar of bleak-grown pines; | ||
+ | Which, when it ceases in this mountain' | ||
+ | No other sound succeeds; but ceasing here, | ||
+ | Among these fallen, Saturn' | ||
+ | Grew up like organ, that begins anew | ||
+ | Its strain, when other harmonies, stopt short, | ||
+ | Leave the dinn'd air vibrating silverly. | ||
+ | Thus grew it up---" | ||
+ | Which is its own great judge and searcher out, | ||
+ | Can I find reason why ye should be thus: | ||
+ | Not in the legends of the first of days, | ||
+ | Studied from that old spirit-leaved book | ||
+ | Which starry Uranus with finger bright | ||
+ | Sav'd from the shores of darkness, when the waves | ||
+ | Low-ebb' | ||
+ | And the which book ye know I ever kept | ||
+ | For my firm-based footstool: | ||
+ | Not there, nor in sign, symbol, or portent | ||
+ | Of element, earth, water, air, and fire,--- | ||
+ | At war, at peace, or inter-quarreling | ||
+ | One against one, or two, or three, or all | ||
+ | Each several one against the other three, | ||
+ | As fire with air loud warring when rain-floods | ||
+ | Drown both, and press them both against earth' | ||
+ | Where, finding sulphur, a quadruple wrath | ||
+ | Unhinges the poor world; | ||
+ | Wherefrom I take strange lore, and read it deep, | ||
+ | Can I find reason why ye should be thus: | ||
+ | No, nowhere can unriddle, though I search, | ||
+ | And pore on Nature' | ||
+ | Even to swooning, why ye, Divinities, | ||
+ | The first-born of all shap'd and palpable Gods, | ||
+ | Should cower beneath what, in comparison, | ||
+ | Is untremendous might. Yet ye are here, | ||
+ | O' | ||
+ | O Titans, shall I say ' | ||
+ | Shall I say ' | ||
+ | O Heaven wide! O unseen parent dear! | ||
+ | What can I? Tell me, all ye brethren Gods, | ||
+ | How we can war, how engine our great wrath! | ||
+ | O speak your counsel now, for Saturn' | ||
+ | Is all a-hunger' | ||
+ | Ponderest high and deep; and in thy face | ||
+ | I see, astonied, that severe content | ||
+ | Which comes of thought and musing: give us help!" | ||
+ | |||
+ | So ended Saturn; and the God of the sea, | ||
+ | Sophist and sage, from no Athenian grove, | ||
+ | But cogitation in his watery shades, | ||
+ | Arose, with locks not oozy, and began, | ||
+ | In murmurs, which his first-endeavouring tongue | ||
+ | Caught infant-like from the far-foamed sands. | ||
+ | "O ye, whom wrath consumes! who, passion-stung, | ||
+ | Writhe at defeat, and nurse your agonies! | ||
+ | Shut up your senses, stifle up your ears, | ||
+ | My voice is not a bellows unto ire. | ||
+ | Yet listen, ye who will, whilst I bring proof | ||
+ | How ye, perforce, must be content to stoop: | ||
+ | And in the proof much comfort will I give, | ||
+ | If ye will take that comfort in its truth. | ||
+ | We fall by course of Nature' | ||
+ | Of thunder, or of Jove. Great Saturn, thou | ||
+ | Hast sifted well the atom-universe; | ||
+ | But for this reason, that thou art the King, | ||
+ | And only blind from sheer supremacy, | ||
+ | One avenue was shaded from thine eyes, | ||
+ | Through which I wandered to eternal truth. | ||
+ | And first, as thou wast not the first of powers, | ||
+ | So art thou not the last; it cannot be: | ||
+ | Thou art not the beginning nor the end. | ||
+ | From Chaos and parental Darkness came | ||
+ | Light, the first fruits of that intestine broil, | ||
+ | That sullen ferment, which for wondrous ends | ||
+ | Was ripening in itself. The ripe hour came, | ||
+ | And with it Light, and Light, engendering | ||
+ | Upon its own producer, forthwith touch' | ||
+ | The whole enormous matter into life. | ||
+ | Upon that very hour, our parentage, | ||
+ | The Heavens and the Earth, were manifest: | ||
+ | Then thou first born, and we the giant race, | ||
+ | Found ourselves ruling new and beauteous realms. | ||
+ | Now comes the pain of truth, to whom 'tis pain; | ||
+ | O folly! for to bear all naked truths, | ||
+ | And to envisage circumstance, | ||
+ | That is the top of sovereignty. Mark well! | ||
+ | As Heaven and Earth are fairer, fairer far | ||
+ | Than Chaos and blank Darkness, though once chiefs; | ||
+ | And as we show beyond that Heaven and Earth | ||
+ | In form and shape compact and beautiful, | ||
+ | In will, in action free, companionship, | ||
+ | And thousand other signs of purer life; | ||
+ | So on our heels a fresh perfection treads, | ||
+ | A power more strong in beauty, born of us | ||
+ | And fated to excel us, as we pass | ||
+ | In glory that old Darkness: nor are we | ||
+ | Thereby more conquer' | ||
+ | Of shapeless Chaos. Say, doth the dull soil | ||
+ | Quarrel with the proud forests it hath fed, | ||
+ | And feedeth still, more comely than itself? | ||
+ | Can it deny the chiefdom of green groves? | ||
+ | Or shall the tree be envious of the dove | ||
+ | Because it cooeth, and hath snowy wings | ||
+ | To wander wherewithal and find its joys? | ||
+ | We are such forest-trees, | ||
+ | Have bred forth, not pale solitary doves, | ||
+ | But eagles golden-feather' | ||
+ | Above us in their beauty, and must reign | ||
+ | In right thereof; for 'tis the eternal law | ||
+ | That first in beauty should be first in might: | ||
+ | Yea, by that law, another race may drive | ||
+ | Our conquerors to mourn as we do now. | ||
+ | Have ye beheld the young God of the seas, | ||
+ | My dispossessor? | ||
+ | Have ye beheld his chariot, foam'd along | ||
+ | By noble winged creatures he hath made? | ||
+ | I saw him on the calmed waters scud, | ||
+ | With such a glow of beauty in his eyes, | ||
+ | That it enforc' | ||
+ | To all my empire: farewell sad I took, | ||
+ | And hither came, to see how dolorous fate | ||
+ | Had wrought upon ye; and how I might best | ||
+ | Give consolation in this woe extreme. | ||
+ | Receive the truth, and let it be your balm." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Whether through pos'd conviction, or disdain, | ||
+ | They guarded silence, when Oceanus | ||
+ | Left murmuring, what deepest thought can tell? | ||
+ | But so it was, none answer' | ||
+ | Save one whom none regarded, Clymene; | ||
+ | And yet she answer' | ||
+ | With hectic lips, and eyes up-looking mild, | ||
+ | Thus wording timidly among the fierce: | ||
+ | "O Father! I am here the simplest voice, | ||
+ | And all my knowledge is that joy is gone, | ||
+ | And this thing woe crept in among our hearts, | ||
+ | There to remain for ever, as I fear: | ||
+ | I would not bode of evil, if I thought | ||
+ | So weak a creature could turn off the help | ||
+ | Which by just right should come of mighty Gods; | ||
+ | Yet let me tell my sorrow, let me tell | ||
+ | Of what I heard, and how it made me weep, | ||
+ | And know that we had parted from all hope. | ||
+ | I stood upon a shore, a pleasant shore, | ||
+ | Where a sweet clime was breathed from a land | ||
+ | Of fragrance, quietness, and trees, and flowers. | ||
+ | Full of calm joy it was, as I of grief; | ||
+ | Too full of joy and soft delicious warmth; | ||
+ | So that I felt a movement in my heart | ||
+ | To chide, and to reproach that solitude | ||
+ | With songs of misery, music of our woes; | ||
+ | And sat me down, and took a mouthed shell | ||
+ | And murmur' | ||
+ | O melody no more! for while I sang, | ||
+ | And with poor skill let pass into the breeze | ||
+ | The dull shell' | ||
+ | Just opposite, an island of the sea, | ||
+ | There came enchantment with the shifting wind, | ||
+ | That did both drown and keep alive my ears. | ||
+ | I threw my shell away upon the sand, | ||
+ | And a wave fill'd it, as my sense was fill' | ||
+ | With that new blissful golden melody. | ||
+ | A living death was in each gush of sounds, | ||
+ | Each family of rapturous hurried notes, | ||
+ | That fell, one after one, yet all at once, | ||
+ | Like pearl beads dropping sudden from their string: | ||
+ | And then another, then another strain, | ||
+ | Each like a dove leaving its olive perch, | ||
+ | With music wing'd instead of silent plumes, | ||
+ | To hover round my head, and make me sick | ||
+ | Of joy and grief at once. Grief overcame, | ||
+ | And I was stopping up my frantic ears, | ||
+ | When, past all hindrance of my trembling hands, | ||
+ | A voice came sweeter, sweeter than all tune, | ||
+ | And still it cried, ' | ||
+ | The morning-bright Apollo! young Apollo!' | ||
+ | I fled, it follow' | ||
+ | O Father, and O Brethren, had ye felt | ||
+ | Those pains of mine; O Saturn, hadst thou felt, | ||
+ | Ye would not call this too indulged tongue | ||
+ | Presumptuous, | ||
+ | |||
+ | So far her voice flow'd on, like timorous brook | ||
+ | That, lingering along a pebbled coast, | ||
+ | Doth fear to meet the sea: but sea it met, | ||
+ | And shudder' | ||
+ | Of huge Enceladus swallow' | ||
+ | The ponderous syllables, like sullen waves | ||
+ | In the half-glutted hollows of reef-rocks, | ||
+ | Came booming thus, while still upon his arm | ||
+ | He lean' | ||
+ | "Or shall we listen to the over-wise, | ||
+ | Or to the over-foolish, | ||
+ | Not thunderbolt on thunderbolt, | ||
+ | That rebel Jove's whole armoury were spent, | ||
+ | Not world on world upon these shoulders piled, | ||
+ | Could agonize me more than baby-words | ||
+ | In midst of this dethronement horrible. | ||
+ | Speak! roar! shout! yell! ye sleepy Titans all. | ||
+ | Do ye forget the blows, the buffets vile? | ||
+ | Are ye not smitten by a youngling arm? | ||
+ | Dost thou forget, sham Monarch of the waves, | ||
+ | Thy scalding in the seas? What! have I rous' | ||
+ | Your spleens with so few simple words as these? | ||
+ | O joy! for now I see ye are not lost: | ||
+ | O joy! for now I see a thousand eyes | ||
+ | Wide-glaring for revenge!" | ||
+ | He lifted up his stature vast, and stood, | ||
+ | Still without intermission speaking thus: | ||
+ | "Now ye are flames, I'll tell you how to burn, | ||
+ | And purge the ether of our enemies; | ||
+ | How to feed fierce the crooked stings of fire, | ||
+ | And singe away the swollen clouds of Jove, | ||
+ | Stifling that puny essence in its tent. | ||
+ | O let him feel the evil he hath done; | ||
+ | For though I scorn Oceanus' | ||
+ | Much pain have I for more than loss of realms: | ||
+ | The days of peace and slumbrous calm are fled; | ||
+ | Those days, all innocent of scathing war, | ||
+ | When all the fair Existences of heaven | ||
+ | Carne open-eyed to guess what we would speak:--- | ||
+ | That was before our brows were taught to frown, | ||
+ | Before our lips knew else but solemn sounds; | ||
+ | That was before we knew the winged thing, | ||
+ | Victory, might be lost, or might be won. | ||
+ | And be ye mindful that Hyperion, | ||
+ | Our brightest brother, still is undisgraced--- | ||
+ | Hyperion, lo! his radiance is here!" | ||
+ | |||
+ | All eyes were on Enceladus' | ||
+ | And they beheld, while still Hyperion' | ||
+ | Flew from his lips up to the vaulted rocks, | ||
+ | A pallid gleam across his features stern: | ||
+ | Not savage, for he saw full many a God | ||
+ | Wroth as himself. He look'd upon them all, | ||
+ | And in each face he saw a gleam of light, | ||
+ | But splendider in Saturn' | ||
+ | Shone like the bubbling foam about a keel | ||
+ | When the prow sweeps into a midnight cove. | ||
+ | In pale and silver silence they remain' | ||
+ | Till suddenly a splendor, like the morn, | ||
+ | Pervaded all the beetling gloomy steeps, | ||
+ | All the sad spaces of oblivion, | ||
+ | And every gulf, and every chasm old, | ||
+ | And every height, and every sullen depth, | ||
+ | Voiceless, or hoarse with loud tormented streams: | ||
+ | And all the everlasting cataracts, | ||
+ | And all the headlong torrents far and near, | ||
+ | Mantled before in darkness and huge shade, | ||
+ | Now saw the light and made it terrible. | ||
+ | It was Hyperion: | ||
+ | His bright feet touch' | ||
+ | The misery his brilliance had betray' | ||
+ | To the most hateful seeing of itself. | ||
+ | Golden his hair of short Numidian curl, | ||
+ | Regal his shape majestic, a vast shade | ||
+ | In midst of his own brightness, like the bulk | ||
+ | Of Memnon' | ||
+ | To one who travels from the dusking East: | ||
+ | Sighs, too, as mournful as that Memnon' | ||
+ | He utter' | ||
+ | He press' | ||
+ | Despondence seiz'd again the fallen Gods | ||
+ | At sight of the dejected King of day, | ||
+ | And many hid their faces from the light: | ||
+ | But fierce Enceladus sent forth his eyes | ||
+ | Among the brotherhood; | ||
+ | Uprose Iapetus, and Creus too, | ||
+ | And Phorcus, sea-born, and together strode | ||
+ | To where he towered on his eminence. | ||
+ | There those four shouted forth old Saturn' | ||
+ | Hyperion from the peak loud answered, " | ||
+ | Saturn sat near the Mother of the Gods, | ||
+ | In whose face was no joy, though all the Gods | ||
+ | Gave from their hollow throats the name of " | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | BOOK III | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus in altemate uproar and sad peace, | ||
+ | Amazed were those Titans utterly. | ||
+ | O leave them, Muse! O leave them to their woes; | ||
+ | For thou art weak to sing such tumults dire: | ||
+ | A solitary sorrow best befits | ||
+ | Thy lips, and antheming a lonely grief. | ||
+ | Leave them, O Muse! for thou anon wilt find | ||
+ | Many a fallen old Divinity | ||
+ | Wandering in vain about bewildered shores. | ||
+ | Meantime touch piously the Delphic harp, | ||
+ | And not a wind of heaven but will breathe | ||
+ | In aid soft warble from the Dorian flute; | ||
+ | For lo! 'tis for the Father of all verse. | ||
+ | Flush everything that hath a vermeil hue, | ||
+ | Let the rose glow intense and warm the air, | ||
+ | And let the clouds of even and of morn | ||
+ | Float in voluptuous fleeces o'er the hills; | ||
+ | Let the red wine within the goblet boil, | ||
+ | Cold as a bubbling well; let faint-lipp' | ||
+ | On sands, or in great deeps, vermilion turn | ||
+ | Through all their labyrinths; and let the maid | ||
+ | Blush keenly, as with some warm kiss surpris' | ||
+ | Chief isle of the embowered Cyclades, | ||
+ | Rejoice, O Delos, with thine olives green, | ||
+ | And poplars, and lawn-shading palms, and beech, | ||
+ | In which the Zephyr breathes the loudest song, | ||
+ | And hazels thick, dark-stemm' | ||
+ | Apollo is once more the golden theme! | ||
+ | Where was he, when the Giant of the sun | ||
+ | Stood bright, amid the sorrow of his peers? | ||
+ | Together had he left his mother fair | ||
+ | And his twin-sister sleeping in their bower, | ||
+ | And in the morning twilight wandered forth | ||
+ | Beside the osiers of a rivulet, | ||
+ | Full ankle-deep in lilies of the vale. | ||
+ | The nightingale had ceas' | ||
+ | Were lingering in the heavens, while the thrush | ||
+ | Began calm-throated. Throughout all the isle | ||
+ | There was no covert, no retired cave, | ||
+ | Unhaunted by the murmurous noise of waves, | ||
+ | Though scarcely heard in many a green recess. | ||
+ | He listen' | ||
+ | Went trickling down the golden bow he held. | ||
+ | Thus with half-shut suffused eyes he stood, | ||
+ | While from beneath some cumbrous boughs hard by | ||
+ | With solemn step an awful Goddess came, | ||
+ | And there was purport in her looks for him, | ||
+ | Which he with eager guess began to read | ||
+ | Perplex' | ||
+ | "How cam'st thou over the unfooted sea? | ||
+ | Or hath that antique mien and robed form | ||
+ | Mov'd in these vales invisible till now? | ||
+ | Sure I have heard those vestments sweeping o'er | ||
+ | The fallen leaves, when I have sat alone | ||
+ | In cool mid-forest. Surely I have traced | ||
+ | The rustle of those ample skirts about | ||
+ | These grassy solitudes, and seen the flowers | ||
+ | Lift up their heads, as still the whisper pass' | ||
+ | Goddess! I have beheld those eyes before, | ||
+ | And their eternal calm, and all that face, | ||
+ | Or I have dream' | ||
+ | "Thou hast dream' | ||
+ | Didst find a lyre all golden by thy side, | ||
+ | Whose strings touch' | ||
+ | Unwearied ear of the whole universe | ||
+ | Listen' | ||
+ | Of such new tuneful wonder. Is't not strange | ||
+ | That thou shouldst weep, so gifted? Tell me, youth, | ||
+ | What sorrow thou canst feel; for I am sad | ||
+ | When thou dost shed a tear: explain thy griefs | ||
+ | To one who in this lonely isle hath been | ||
+ | The watcher of thy sleep and hours of life, | ||
+ | From the young day when first thy infant hand | ||
+ | Pluck' | ||
+ | Could bend that bow heroic to all times. | ||
+ | Show thy heart' | ||
+ | Who hath forsaken old and sacred thrones | ||
+ | For prophecies of thee, and for the sake | ||
+ | Of loveliness new born." | ||
+ | With sudden scrutiny and gloomless eyes, | ||
+ | Thus answer' | ||
+ | Throbb' | ||
+ | Thy name is on my tongue, I know not how; | ||
+ | Why should I tell thee what thou so well seest? | ||
+ | Why should I strive to show what from thy lips | ||
+ | Would come no mystery? For me, dark, dark, | ||
+ | And painful vile oblivion seals my eyes: | ||
+ | I strive to search wherefore I am so sad, | ||
+ | Until a melancholy numbs my limbs; | ||
+ | And then upon the grass I sit, and moan, | ||
+ | Like one who once had wings.---O why should I | ||
+ | Feel curs'd and thwarted, when the liegeless air | ||
+ | Yields to my step aspirant? why should I | ||
+ | Spurn the green turf as hateful to my feet? | ||
+ | Goddess benign, point forth some unknown thing: | ||
+ | Are there not other regions than this isle? | ||
+ | What are the stars? There is the sun, the sun! | ||
+ | And the most patient brilliance of the moon! | ||
+ | And stars by thousands! Point me out the way | ||
+ | To any one particular beauteous star, | ||
+ | And I will flit into it with my lyre, | ||
+ | And make its silvery splendor pant with bliss. | ||
+ | I have heard the cloudy thunder: Where is power? | ||
+ | Whose hand, whose essence, what divinity | ||
+ | Makes this alarum in the elements, | ||
+ | While I here idle listen on the shores | ||
+ | In fearless yet in aching ignorance? | ||
+ | O tell me, lonely Goddess, by thy harp, | ||
+ | That waileth every morn and eventide, | ||
+ | Tell me why thus I rave about these groves! | ||
+ | Mute thou remainest---Mute! yet I can read | ||
+ | A wondrous lesson in thy silent face: | ||
+ | Knowledge enormous makes a God of me. | ||
+ | Names, deeds, gray legends, dire events, rebellions, | ||
+ | Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, | ||
+ | Creations and destroyings, | ||
+ | Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, | ||
+ | And deify me, as if some blithe wine | ||
+ | Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, | ||
+ | And so become immortal." | ||
+ | While his enkindled eyes, with level glance | ||
+ | Beneath his white soft temples, steadfast kept | ||
+ | Trembling with light upon Mnemosyne. | ||
+ | Soon wild commotions shook him, and made flush | ||
+ | All the immortal fairness of his limbs; | ||
+ | Most like the struggle at the gate of death; | ||
+ | Or liker still to one who should take leave | ||
+ | Of pale immortal death, and with a pang | ||
+ | As hot as death' | ||
+ | Die into life: so young Apollo anguish' | ||
+ | His very hair, his golden tresses famed, | ||
+ | Kept undulation round his eager neck. | ||
+ | During the pain Mnemosyne upheld | ||
+ | Her arms as one who prophesied. At length | ||
+ | Apollo shriek' | ||
+ | Celestial. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 19. To My Brother George | < | ||
+ | Many the wonders I this day have seen: | ||
+ | The sun, when first he kissed away the tears | ||
+ | That filled the eyes of Morn;—the laurelled peers | ||
+ | Who from the feathery gold of evening lean;— | ||
+ | The ocean with its vastness, its blue green, | ||
+ | Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears, | ||
+ | Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears | ||
+ | Must think on what will be, and what has been. | ||
+ | E'en now, dear George, while this for you I write, | ||
+ | Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping | ||
+ | So scantly, that it seems her bridal night, | ||
+ | And she her half-discovered revels keeping. | ||
+ | But what, without the social thought of thee, | ||
+ | Would be the wonders of the sky and sea? | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 20. The Eve Of St. Agnes | < | ||
+ | St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! | ||
+ | The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; | ||
+ | The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, | ||
+ | And silent was the flock in woolly fold: | ||
+ | Numb were the Beadsman' | ||
+ | His rosary, and while his frosted breath, | ||
+ | Like pious incense from a censer old, | ||
+ | Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, | ||
+ | Past the sweet Virgin' | ||
+ | |||
+ | His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man; | ||
+ | Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees, | ||
+ | And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, | ||
+ | Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees: | ||
+ | The sculptur' | ||
+ | Emprison' | ||
+ | Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat' | ||
+ | He passeth by; and his weak spirit fails | ||
+ | To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Northward he turneth through a little door, | ||
+ | And scarce three steps, ere Music' | ||
+ | Flatter' | ||
+ | But no--already had his deathbell rung; | ||
+ | The joys of all his life were said and sung: | ||
+ | His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve: | ||
+ | Another way he went, and soon among | ||
+ | Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve, | ||
+ | And all night kept awake, for sinners' | ||
+ | |||
+ | That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft; | ||
+ | And so it chanc' | ||
+ | From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft, | ||
+ | The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide: | ||
+ | The level chambers, ready with their pride, | ||
+ | Were glowing to receive a thousand guests: | ||
+ | The carved angels, ever eager-eyed, | ||
+ | Star' | ||
+ | With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts. | ||
+ | |||
+ | At length burst in the argent revelry, | ||
+ | With plume, tiara, and all rich array, | ||
+ | Numerous as shadows haunting faerily | ||
+ | The brain, new stuff' | ||
+ | Of old romance. These let us wish away, | ||
+ | And turn, sole-thoughted, | ||
+ | Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day, | ||
+ | On love, and wing'd St. Agnes' saintly care, | ||
+ | As she had heard old dames full many times declare. | ||
+ | |||
+ | They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, | ||
+ | Young virgins might have visions of delight, | ||
+ | And soft adorings from their loves receive | ||
+ | Upon the honey' | ||
+ | If ceremonies due they did aright; | ||
+ | As, supperless to bed they must retire, | ||
+ | And couch supine their beauties, lily white; | ||
+ | Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require | ||
+ | Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline: | ||
+ | The music, yearning like a God in pain, | ||
+ | She scarcely heard: her maiden eyes divine, | ||
+ | Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train | ||
+ | Pass by--she heeded not at all: in vain | ||
+ | Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier, | ||
+ | And back retir' | ||
+ | But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere: | ||
+ | She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year. | ||
+ | |||
+ | She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes, | ||
+ | Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short: | ||
+ | The hallow' | ||
+ | Amid the timbrels, and the throng' | ||
+ | Of whisperers in anger, or in sport; | ||
+ | 'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn, | ||
+ | Hoodwink' | ||
+ | Save to St. Agnes and her lambs unshorn, | ||
+ | And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn. | ||
+ | |||
+ | So, purposing each moment to retire, | ||
+ | She linger' | ||
+ | Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire | ||
+ | For Madeline. Beside the portal doors, | ||
+ | Buttress' | ||
+ | All saints to give him sight of Madeline, | ||
+ | But for one moment in the tedious hours, | ||
+ | That he might gaze and worship all unseen; | ||
+ | Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss--in sooth such things have been. | ||
+ | |||
+ | He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell: | ||
+ | All eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords | ||
+ | Will storm his heart, Love's fev' | ||
+ | For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes, | ||
+ | Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, | ||
+ | Whose very dogs would execrations howl | ||
+ | Against his lineage: not one breast affords | ||
+ | Him any mercy, in that mansion foul, | ||
+ | Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ah, happy chance! the aged creature came, | ||
+ | Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand, | ||
+ | To where he stood, hid from the torch' | ||
+ | Behind a broad half-pillar, | ||
+ | The sound of merriment and chorus bland: | ||
+ | He startled her; but soon she knew his face, | ||
+ | And grasp' | ||
+ | Saying, " | ||
+ | They are all here to-night, the whole blood-thirsty race! | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Get hence! get hence! there' | ||
+ | He had a fever late, and in the fit | ||
+ | He cursed thee and thine, both house and land: | ||
+ | Then there' | ||
+ | More tame for his gray hairs--Alas me! flit! | ||
+ | Flit like a ghost away." | ||
+ | We're safe enough; here in this arm-chair sit, | ||
+ | And tell me how" | ||
+ | Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier." | ||
+ | |||
+ | He follow' | ||
+ | Brushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume, | ||
+ | And as she mutter' | ||
+ | He found him in a little moonlight room, | ||
+ | Pale, lattic' | ||
+ | "Now tell me where is Madeline," | ||
+ | "O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom | ||
+ | Which none but secret sisterhood may see, | ||
+ | When they St. Agnes' wool are weaving piously." | ||
+ | |||
+ | "St. Agnes! Ah! it is St. Agnes' Eve-- | ||
+ | Yet men will murder upon holy days: | ||
+ | Thou must hold water in a witch' | ||
+ | And be liege-lord of all the Elves and Fays, | ||
+ | To venture so: it fills me with amaze | ||
+ | To see thee, Porphyro!--St. Agnes' Eve! | ||
+ | God's help! my lady fair the conjuror plays | ||
+ | This very night: good angels her deceive! | ||
+ | But let me laugh awhile, I've mickle time to grieve." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon, | ||
+ | While Porphyro upon her face doth look, | ||
+ | Like puzzled urchin on an aged crone | ||
+ | Who keepeth clos'd a wond' | ||
+ | As spectacled she sits in chimney nook. | ||
+ | But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told | ||
+ | His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook | ||
+ | Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold, | ||
+ | And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, | ||
+ | Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart | ||
+ | Made purple riot: then doth he propose | ||
+ | A stratagem, that makes the beldame start: | ||
+ | "A cruel man and impious thou art: | ||
+ | Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream | ||
+ | Alone with her good angels, far apart | ||
+ | From wicked men like thee. Go, go!--I deem | ||
+ | Thou canst not surely be the same that thou didst seem." | ||
+ | |||
+ | "I will not harm her, by all saints I swear," | ||
+ | Quoth Porphyro: "O may I ne'er find grace | ||
+ | When my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer, | ||
+ | If one of her soft ringlets I displace, | ||
+ | Or look with ruffian passion in her face: | ||
+ | Good Angela, believe me by these tears; | ||
+ | Or I will, even in a moment' | ||
+ | Awake, with horrid shout, my foemen' | ||
+ | And beard them, though they be more fang'd than wolves and bears." | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Ah! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul? | ||
+ | A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, | ||
+ | Whose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll; | ||
+ | Whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening, | ||
+ | Were never miss' | ||
+ | A gentler speech from burning Porphyro; | ||
+ | So woful, and of such deep sorrowing, | ||
+ | That Angela gives promise she will do | ||
+ | Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, | ||
+ | Even to Madeline' | ||
+ | Him in a closet, of such privacy | ||
+ | That he might see her beauty unespy' | ||
+ | And win perhaps that night a peerless bride, | ||
+ | While legion' | ||
+ | And pale enchantment held her sleepy-ey' | ||
+ | Never on such a night have lovers met, | ||
+ | Since Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous debt. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "It shall be as thou wishest," | ||
+ | "All cates and dainties shall be stored there | ||
+ | Quickly on this feast-night: | ||
+ | Her own lute thou wilt see: no time to spare, | ||
+ | For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare | ||
+ | On such a catering trust my dizzy head. | ||
+ | Wait here, my child, with patience; kneel in prayer | ||
+ | The while: Ah! thou must needs the lady wed, | ||
+ | Or may I never leave my grave among the dead." | ||
+ | |||
+ | So saying, she hobbled off with busy fear. | ||
+ | The lover' | ||
+ | The dame return' | ||
+ | To follow her; with aged eyes aghast | ||
+ | From fright of dim espial. Safe at last, | ||
+ | Through many a dusky gallery, they gain | ||
+ | The maiden' | ||
+ | Where Porphyro took covert, pleas' | ||
+ | His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Her falt' | ||
+ | Old Angela was feeling for the stair, | ||
+ | When Madeline, St. Agnes' charmed maid, | ||
+ | Rose, like a mission' | ||
+ | With silver taper' | ||
+ | She turn' | ||
+ | To a safe level matting. Now prepare, | ||
+ | Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed; | ||
+ | She comes, she comes again, like ring-dove fray'd and fled. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Out went the taper as she hurried in; | ||
+ | Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died: | ||
+ | She clos'd the door, she panted, all akin | ||
+ | To spirits of the air, and visions wide: | ||
+ | No uttered syllable, or, woe betide! | ||
+ | But to her heart, her heart was voluble, | ||
+ | Paining with eloquence her balmy side; | ||
+ | As though a tongueless nightingale should swell | ||
+ | Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, | ||
+ | |||
+ | A casement high and triple-arch' | ||
+ | All garlanded with carven imag' | ||
+ | Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, | ||
+ | And diamonded with panes of quaint device, | ||
+ | Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, | ||
+ | As are the tiger-moth' | ||
+ | And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, | ||
+ | And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, | ||
+ | A shielded scutcheon blush' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, | ||
+ | And threw warm gules on Madeline' | ||
+ | As down she knelt for heaven' | ||
+ | Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, | ||
+ | And on her silver cross soft amethyst, | ||
+ | And on her hair a glory, like a saint: | ||
+ | She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest, | ||
+ | Save wings, for heaven: | ||
+ | She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Anon his heart revives: her vespers done, | ||
+ | Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees; | ||
+ | Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one; | ||
+ | Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees | ||
+ | Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees: | ||
+ | Half-hidden, | ||
+ | Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, | ||
+ | In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, | ||
+ | But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, | ||
+ | In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex' | ||
+ | Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress' | ||
+ | Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away; | ||
+ | Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day; | ||
+ | Blissfully haven' | ||
+ | Clasp' | ||
+ | Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, | ||
+ | As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced, | ||
+ | Porphyro gaz'd upon her empty dress, | ||
+ | And listen' | ||
+ | To wake into a slumberous tenderness; | ||
+ | Which when he heard, that minute did he bless, | ||
+ | And breath' | ||
+ | Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness, | ||
+ | And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept, | ||
+ | And 'tween the curtains peep' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon | ||
+ | Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set | ||
+ | A table, and, half anguish' | ||
+ | A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:-- | ||
+ | O for some drowsy Morphean amulet! | ||
+ | The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion, | ||
+ | The kettle-drum, | ||
+ | Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:-- | ||
+ | The hall door shuts again, and all the noise is gone. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep, | ||
+ | In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender' | ||
+ | While he forth from the closet brought a heap | ||
+ | Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd; | ||
+ | With jellies soother than the creamy curd, | ||
+ | And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon; | ||
+ | Manna and dates, in argosy transferr' | ||
+ | From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one, | ||
+ | From silken Samarcand to cedar' | ||
+ | |||
+ | These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand | ||
+ | On golden dishes and in baskets bright | ||
+ | Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand | ||
+ | In the retired quiet of the night, | ||
+ | Filling the chilly room with perfume light.-- | ||
+ | "And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake! | ||
+ | Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite: | ||
+ | Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, | ||
+ | Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm | ||
+ | Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream | ||
+ | By the dusk curtains: | ||
+ | Impossible to melt as iced stream: | ||
+ | The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam; | ||
+ | Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies: | ||
+ | It seem'd he never, never could redeem | ||
+ | From such a stedfast spell his lady's eyes; | ||
+ | So mus'd awhile, entoil' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,-- | ||
+ | Tumultuous, | ||
+ | He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute, | ||
+ | In Provence call' | ||
+ | Close to her ear touching the melody;-- | ||
+ | Wherewith disturb' | ||
+ | He ceas' | ||
+ | Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone: | ||
+ | Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Her eyes were open, but she still beheld, | ||
+ | Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep: | ||
+ | There was a painful change, that nigh expell' | ||
+ | The blisses of her dream so pure and deep | ||
+ | At which fair Madeline began to weep, | ||
+ | And moan forth witless words with many a sigh; | ||
+ | While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep; | ||
+ | Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye, | ||
+ | Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Ah, Porphyro!" | ||
+ | Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear, | ||
+ | Made tuneable with every sweetest vow; | ||
+ | And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear: | ||
+ | How chang' | ||
+ | Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, | ||
+ | Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! | ||
+ | Oh leave me not in this eternal woe, | ||
+ | For if thy diest, my Love, I know not where to go." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Beyond a mortal man impassion' | ||
+ | At these voluptuous accents, he arose | ||
+ | Ethereal, flush' | ||
+ | Seen mid the sapphire heaven' | ||
+ | Into her dream he melted, as the rose | ||
+ | Blendeth its odour with the violet,-- | ||
+ | Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows | ||
+ | Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet | ||
+ | Against the window-panes; | ||
+ | |||
+ | 'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet: | ||
+ | "This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!" | ||
+ | 'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat: | ||
+ | "No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine! | ||
+ | Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.-- | ||
+ | Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring? | ||
+ | I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, | ||
+ | Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;-- | ||
+ | A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing." | ||
+ | |||
+ | "My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride! | ||
+ | Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest? | ||
+ | Thy beauty' | ||
+ | Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest | ||
+ | After so many hours of toil and quest, | ||
+ | A famish' | ||
+ | Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest | ||
+ | Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think' | ||
+ | To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Hark! 'tis an elfin-storm from faery land, | ||
+ | Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed: | ||
+ | Arise--arise! the morning is at hand;-- | ||
+ | The bloated wassaillers will never heed:-- | ||
+ | Let us away, my love, with happy speed; | ||
+ | There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,-- | ||
+ | Drown' | ||
+ | Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be, | ||
+ | For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee." | ||
+ | |||
+ | She hurried at his words, beset with fears, | ||
+ | For there were sleeping dragons all around, | ||
+ | At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears-- | ||
+ | Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found.-- | ||
+ | In all the house was heard no human sound. | ||
+ | A chain-droop' | ||
+ | The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound, | ||
+ | Flutter' | ||
+ | And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor. | ||
+ | |||
+ | They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall; | ||
+ | Like phantoms, to the iron porch, they glide; | ||
+ | Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl, | ||
+ | With a huge empty flaggon by his side: | ||
+ | The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide, | ||
+ | But his sagacious eye an inmate owns: | ||
+ | By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:-- | ||
+ | The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;-- | ||
+ | The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And they are gone: aye, ages long ago | ||
+ | These lovers fled away into the storm. | ||
+ | That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, | ||
+ | And all his warrior-guests, | ||
+ | Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm, | ||
+ | Were long be-nightmar' | ||
+ | Died palsy-twitch' | ||
+ | The Beadsman, after thousand aves told, | ||
+ | For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 21. Lines | < | ||
+ | Unfelt unheard, unseen, | ||
+ | I've left my little queen, | ||
+ | Her languid arms in silver slumber lying: | ||
+ | Ah! through their nestling touch, | ||
+ | Who---who could tell how much | ||
+ | There is for madness---cruel, | ||
+ | |||
+ | Those faery lids how sleek! | ||
+ | Those lips how moist!---they speak, | ||
+ | In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds: | ||
+ | Into my fancy' | ||
+ | Melting a burden dear, | ||
+ | How "Love doth know no fulness, nor no bounds." | ||
+ | |||
+ | True!---tender monitors! | ||
+ | I bend unto your laws: | ||
+ | This sweetest day for dalliance was born! | ||
+ | So, without more ado, | ||
+ | I'll feel my heaven anew, | ||
+ | For all the blushing of the hasty morn. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 22. Ode On Indolence | < | ||
+ | One morn before me were three figures seen, | ||
+ | I With bowed necks, and joined hands, side-faced; | ||
+ | And one behind the other stepp' | ||
+ | In placid sandals, and in white robes graced; | ||
+ | They pass' | ||
+ | When shifted round to see the other side; | ||
+ | They came again; as when the urn once more | ||
+ | Is shifted round, the first seen shades return; | ||
+ | And they were strange to me, as may betide | ||
+ | With vases, to one deep in Phidian lore. | ||
+ | |||
+ | How is it, Shadows! that I knew ye not? | ||
+ | How came ye muffled in so hush a masque? | ||
+ | Was it a silent deep-disguised plot | ||
+ | To steal away, and leave without a task | ||
+ | My idle days? Ripe was the drowsy hour; | ||
+ | The blissful cloud of summer-indolence | ||
+ | Benumb' | ||
+ | Pain had no sting, and pleasure' | ||
+ | O, why did ye not melt, and leave my sense | ||
+ | Unhaunted quite of all but---nothingness? | ||
+ | |||
+ | A third time came they by;---alas! wherefore? | ||
+ | My sleep had been embroider' | ||
+ | My soul had been a lawn besprinkled o'er | ||
+ | With flowers, and stirring shades, and baffled beams: | ||
+ | The morn was clouded, but no shower fell, | ||
+ | Tho' in her lids hung the sweet tears of May; | ||
+ | The open casement press' | ||
+ | Let in the budding warmth and throstle' | ||
+ | O Shadows! 'twas a time to bid farewell! | ||
+ | Upon your skirts had fallen no tears of mine. | ||
+ | |||
+ | A third time pass'd they by, and, passing, turn' | ||
+ | Each one the face a moment whiles to me; | ||
+ | Then faded, and to follow them I burn' | ||
+ | And ached for wings, because I knew the three; | ||
+ | The first was a fair maid, and Love her name; | ||
+ | The second was Ambition, pale of cheek, | ||
+ | And ever watchful with fatigued eye; | ||
+ | The last, whom I love more, the more of blame | ||
+ | Is heap'd upon her, maiden most unmeek, | ||
+ | I knew to be my demon Poesy. | ||
+ | |||
+ | They faded, and, forsooth! I wanted wings: | ||
+ | O folly! What is Love! and where is it? | ||
+ | And for that poor Ambition---it springs | ||
+ | From a man's little heart' | ||
+ | For Poesy!---no, | ||
+ | At least for me,---so sweet as drowsy noons, | ||
+ | And evenings steep' | ||
+ | O, for an age so shelter' | ||
+ | That I may never know how change the moons, | ||
+ | Or hear the voice of busy common-sense! | ||
+ | |||
+ | So, ye three Ghosts, adieu! Ye cannot raise | ||
+ | My head cool-bedded in the flowery grass; | ||
+ | For I would not be dieted with praise, | ||
+ | A pet-lamb in a sentimental farce! | ||
+ | Fade sofdy from my eyes, and be once more | ||
+ | In masque-like figures on the dreamy urn; | ||
+ | Farewell! I yet have visions for the night, | ||
+ | And for the day faint visions there is store; | ||
+ | Vanish, ye Phantoms! from my idle spright, | ||
+ | Into the clouds, and never more return! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 23. Endymion: Book I | < | ||
+ | ENDYMION. | ||
+ | |||
+ | A Poetic Romance. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "THE STRETCHED METRE OF AN AN ANTIQUE SONG." | ||
+ | INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS CHATTERTON. | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | Book I | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: | ||
+ | Its loveliness increases; it will never | ||
+ | Pass into nothingness; | ||
+ | A bower quiet for us, and a sleep | ||
+ | Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. | ||
+ | Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing | ||
+ | A flowery band to bind us to the earth, | ||
+ | Spite of despondence, | ||
+ | Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, | ||
+ | Of all the unhealthy and o' | ||
+ | Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, | ||
+ | Some shape of beauty moves away the pall | ||
+ | From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, | ||
+ | Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon | ||
+ | For simple sheep; and such are daffodils | ||
+ | With the green world they live in; and clear rills | ||
+ | That for themselves a cooling covert make | ||
+ | ' | ||
+ | Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: | ||
+ | And such too is the grandeur of the dooms | ||
+ | We have imagined for the mighty dead; | ||
+ | All lovely tales that we have heard or read: | ||
+ | An endless fountain of immortal drink, | ||
+ | Pouring unto us from the heaven' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Nor do we merely feel these essences | ||
+ | For one short hour; no, even as the trees | ||
+ | That whisper round a temple become soon | ||
+ | Dear as the temple' | ||
+ | The passion poesy, glories infinite, | ||
+ | Haunt us till they become a cheering light | ||
+ | Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast, | ||
+ | That, whether there be shine, or gloom o' | ||
+ | They alway must be with us, or we die. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I | ||
+ | Will trace the story of Endymion. | ||
+ | The very music of the name has gone | ||
+ | Into my being, and each pleasant scene | ||
+ | Is growing fresh before me as the green | ||
+ | Of our own vallies: so I will begin | ||
+ | Now while I cannot hear the city's din; | ||
+ | Now while the early budders are just new, | ||
+ | And run in mazes of the youngest hue | ||
+ | About old forests; while the willow trails | ||
+ | Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails | ||
+ | Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year | ||
+ | Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer | ||
+ | My little boat, for many quiet hours, | ||
+ | With streams that deepen freshly into bowers. | ||
+ | Many and many a verse I hope to write, | ||
+ | Before the daisies, vermeil rimm'd and white, | ||
+ | Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees | ||
+ | Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas, | ||
+ | I must be near the middle of my story. | ||
+ | O may no wintry season, bare and hoary, | ||
+ | See it half finished: but let Autumn bold, | ||
+ | With universal tinge of sober gold, | ||
+ | Be all about me when I make an end. | ||
+ | And now at once, adventuresome, | ||
+ | My herald thought into a wilderness: | ||
+ | There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress | ||
+ | My uncertain path with green, that I may speed | ||
+ | Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Upon the sides of Latmos was outspread | ||
+ | A mighty forest; for the moist earth fed | ||
+ | So plenteously all weed-hidden roots | ||
+ | Into o' | ||
+ | And it had gloomy shades, sequestered deep, | ||
+ | Where no man went; and if from shepherd' | ||
+ | A lamb strayed far a-down those inmost glens, | ||
+ | Never again saw he the happy pens | ||
+ | Whither his brethren, bleating with content, | ||
+ | Over the hills at every nightfall went. | ||
+ | Among the shepherds, 'twas believed ever, | ||
+ | That not one fleecy lamb which thus did sever | ||
+ | From the white flock, but pass'd unworried | ||
+ | By angry wolf, or pard with prying head, | ||
+ | Until it came to some unfooted plains | ||
+ | Where fed the herds of Pan: ay great his gains | ||
+ | Who thus one lamb did lose. Paths there were many, | ||
+ | Winding through palmy fern, and rushes fenny, | ||
+ | And ivy banks; all leading pleasantly | ||
+ | To a wide lawn, whence one could only see | ||
+ | Stems thronging all around between the swell | ||
+ | Of turf and slanting branches: who could tell | ||
+ | The freshness of the space of heaven above, | ||
+ | Edg'd round with dark tree tops? through which a dove | ||
+ | Would often beat its wings, and often too | ||
+ | A little cloud would move across the blue. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Full in the middle of this pleasantness | ||
+ | There stood a marble altar, with a tress | ||
+ | Of flowers budded newly; and the dew | ||
+ | Had taken fairy phantasies to strew | ||
+ | Daisies upon the sacred sward last eve, | ||
+ | And so the dawned light in pomp receive. | ||
+ | For 'twas the morn: Apollo' | ||
+ | Made every eastern cloud a silvery pyre | ||
+ | Of brightness so unsullied, that therein | ||
+ | A melancholy spirit well might win | ||
+ | Oblivion, and melt out his essence fine | ||
+ | Into the winds: rain-scented eglantine | ||
+ | Gave temperate sweets to that well-wooing sun; | ||
+ | The lark was lost in him; cold springs had run | ||
+ | To warm their chilliest bubbles in the grass; | ||
+ | Man's voice was on the mountains; and the mass | ||
+ | Of nature' | ||
+ | To feel this sun-rise and its glories old. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Now while the silent workings of the dawn | ||
+ | Were busiest, into that self-same lawn | ||
+ | All suddenly, with joyful cries, there sped | ||
+ | A troop of little children garlanded; | ||
+ | Who gathering round the altar, seemed to pry | ||
+ | Earnestly round as wishing to espy | ||
+ | Some folk of holiday: nor had they waited | ||
+ | For many moments, ere their ears were sated | ||
+ | With a faint breath of music, which ev'n then | ||
+ | Fill'd out its voice, and died away again. | ||
+ | Within a little space again it gave | ||
+ | Its airy swellings, with a gentle wave, | ||
+ | To light-hung leaves, in smoothest echoes breaking | ||
+ | Through copse-clad vallies, | ||
+ | The surgy murmurs of the lonely sea. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And now, as deep into the wood as we | ||
+ | Might mark a lynx's eye, there glimmered light | ||
+ | Fair faces and a rush of garments white, | ||
+ | Plainer and plainer shewing, till at last | ||
+ | Into the widest alley they all past, | ||
+ | Making directly for the woodland altar. | ||
+ | O kindly muse! let not my weak tongue faulter | ||
+ | In telling of this goodly company, | ||
+ | Of their old piety, and of their glee: | ||
+ | But let a portion of ethereal dew | ||
+ | Fall on my head, and presently unmew | ||
+ | My soul; that I may dare, in wayfaring, | ||
+ | To stammer where old Chaucer used to sing. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Leading the way, young damsels danced along, | ||
+ | Bearing the burden of a shepherd song; | ||
+ | Each having a white wicker over brimm' | ||
+ | With April' | ||
+ | A crowd of shepherds with as sunburnt looks | ||
+ | As may be read of in Arcadian books; | ||
+ | Such as sat listening round Apollo' | ||
+ | When the great deity, for earth too ripe, | ||
+ | Let his divinity o' | ||
+ | In music, through the vales of Thessaly: | ||
+ | Some idly trailed their sheep-hooks on the ground, | ||
+ | And some kept up a shrilly mellow sound | ||
+ | With ebon-tipped flutes: close after these, | ||
+ | Now coming from beneath the forest trees, | ||
+ | A venerable priest full soberly, | ||
+ | Begirt with ministring looks: alway his eye | ||
+ | Stedfast upon the matted turf he kept, | ||
+ | And after him his sacred vestments swept. | ||
+ | From his right hand there swung a vase, milk-white, | ||
+ | Of mingled wine, out-sparkling generous light; | ||
+ | And in his left he held a basket full | ||
+ | Of all sweet herbs that searching eye could cull: | ||
+ | Wild thyme, and valley-lilies whiter still | ||
+ | Than Leda's love, and cresses from the rill. | ||
+ | His aged head, crowned with beechen wreath, | ||
+ | Seem'd like a poll of ivy in the teeth | ||
+ | Of winter hoar. Then came another crowd | ||
+ | Of shepherds, lifting in due time aloud | ||
+ | Their share of the ditty. After them appear' | ||
+ | Up-followed by a multitude that rear' | ||
+ | Their voices to the clouds, a fair wrought car, | ||
+ | Easily rolling so as scarce to mar | ||
+ | The freedom of three steeds of dapple brown: | ||
+ | Who stood therein did seem of great renown | ||
+ | Among the throng. His youth was fully blown, | ||
+ | Shewing like Ganymede to manhood grown; | ||
+ | And, for those simple times, his garments were | ||
+ | A chieftain king' | ||
+ | Was hung a silver bugle, and between | ||
+ | His nervy knees there lay a boar-spear keen. | ||
+ | A smile was on his countenance; | ||
+ | To common lookers on, like one who dream' | ||
+ | Of idleness in groves Elysian: | ||
+ | But there were some who feelingly could scan | ||
+ | A lurking trouble in his nether lip, | ||
+ | And see that oftentimes the reins would slip | ||
+ | Through his forgotten hands: then would they sigh, | ||
+ | And think of yellow leaves, of owlets cry, | ||
+ | Of logs piled solemnly.--Ah, | ||
+ | Why should our young Endymion pine away! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Soon the assembly, in a circle rang' | ||
+ | Stood silent round the shrine: each look was chang' | ||
+ | To sudden veneration: women meek | ||
+ | Beckon' | ||
+ | Of virgin bloom paled gently for slight fear. | ||
+ | Endymion too, without a forest peer, | ||
+ | Stood, wan, and pale, and with an awed face, | ||
+ | Among his brothers of the mountain chase. | ||
+ | In midst of all, the venerable priest | ||
+ | Eyed them with joy from greatest to the least, | ||
+ | And, after lifting up his aged hands, | ||
+ | Thus spake he: "Men of Latmos! shepherd bands! | ||
+ | Whose care it is to guard a thousand flocks: | ||
+ | Whether descended from beneath the rocks | ||
+ | That overtop your mountains; whether come | ||
+ | From vallies where the pipe is never dumb; | ||
+ | Or from your swelling downs, where sweet air stirs | ||
+ | Blue hare-bells lightly, and where prickly furze | ||
+ | Buds lavish gold; or ye, whose precious charge | ||
+ | Nibble their fill at ocean' | ||
+ | Whose mellow reeds are touch' | ||
+ | By the dim echoes of old Triton' | ||
+ | Mothers and wives! who day by day prepare | ||
+ | The scrip, with needments, for the mountain air; | ||
+ | And all ye gentle girls who foster up | ||
+ | Udderless lambs, and in a little cup | ||
+ | Will put choice honey for a favoured youth: | ||
+ | Yea, every one attend! for in good truth | ||
+ | Our vows are wanting to our great god Pan. | ||
+ | Are not our lowing heifers sleeker than | ||
+ | Night-swollen mushrooms? Are not our wide plains | ||
+ | Speckled with countless fleeces? Have not rains | ||
+ | Green' | ||
+ | Sickens our fearful ewes; and we have had | ||
+ | Great bounty from Endymion our lord. | ||
+ | The earth is glad: the merry lark has pour' | ||
+ | His early song against yon breezy sky, | ||
+ | That spreads so clear o'er our solemnity." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus ending, on the shrine he heap'd a spire | ||
+ | Of teeming sweets, enkindling sacred fire; | ||
+ | Anon he stain' | ||
+ | With wine, in honour of the shepherd-god. | ||
+ | Now while the earth was drinking it, and while | ||
+ | Bay leaves were crackling in the fragrant pile, | ||
+ | And gummy frankincense was sparkling bright | ||
+ | 'Neath smothering parsley, and a hazy light | ||
+ | Spread greyly eastward, thus a chorus sang: | ||
+ | |||
+ | "O THOU, whose mighty palace roof doth hang | ||
+ | From jagged trunks, and overshadoweth | ||
+ | Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death | ||
+ | Of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness; | ||
+ | Who lov'st to see the hamadryads dress | ||
+ | Their ruffled locks where meeting hazels darken; | ||
+ | And through whole solemn hours dost sit, and hearken | ||
+ | The dreary melody of bedded reeds-- | ||
+ | In desolate places, where dank moisture breeds | ||
+ | The pipy hemlock to strange overgrowth; | ||
+ | Bethinking thee, how melancholy loth | ||
+ | Thou wast to lose fair Syrinx--do thou now, | ||
+ | By thy love's milky brow! | ||
+ | By all the trembling mazes that she ran, | ||
+ | Hear us, great Pan! | ||
+ | |||
+ | "O thou, for whose soul-soothing quiet, turtles | ||
+ | Passion their voices cooingly 'mong myrtles, | ||
+ | What time thou wanderest at eventide | ||
+ | Through sunny meadows, that outskirt the side | ||
+ | Of thine enmossed realms: O thou, to whom | ||
+ | Broad leaved fig trees even now foredoom | ||
+ | Their ripen' | ||
+ | Their golden honeycombs; our village leas | ||
+ | Their fairest-blossom' | ||
+ | The chuckling linnet its five young unborn, | ||
+ | To sing for thee; low creeping strawberries | ||
+ | Their summer coolness; pent up butterflies | ||
+ | Their freckled wings; yea, the fresh budding year | ||
+ | All its completions--be quickly near, | ||
+ | By every wind that nods the mountain pine, | ||
+ | O forester divine! | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Thou, to whom every fawn and satyr flies | ||
+ | For willing service; whether to surprise | ||
+ | The squatted hare while in half sleeping fit; | ||
+ | Or upward ragged precipices flit | ||
+ | To save poor lambkins from the eagle' | ||
+ | Or by mysterious enticement draw | ||
+ | Bewildered shepherds to their path again; | ||
+ | Or to tread breathless round the frothy main, | ||
+ | And gather up all fancifullest shells | ||
+ | For thee to tumble into Naiads' | ||
+ | And, being hidden, laugh at their out-peeping; | ||
+ | Or to delight thee with fantastic leaping, | ||
+ | The while they pelt each other on the crown | ||
+ | With silvery oak apples, and fir cones brown-- | ||
+ | By all the echoes that about thee ring, | ||
+ | Hear us, O satyr king! | ||
+ | |||
+ | "O Hearkener to the loud clapping shears, | ||
+ | While ever and anon to his shorn peers | ||
+ | A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn, | ||
+ | When snouted wild-boars routing tender corn | ||
+ | Anger our huntsman: Breather round our farms, | ||
+ | To keep off mildews, and all weather harms: | ||
+ | Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds, | ||
+ | That come a swooning over hollow grounds, | ||
+ | And wither drearily on barren moors: | ||
+ | Dread opener of the mysterious doors | ||
+ | Leading to universal knowledge--see, | ||
+ | Great son of Dryope, | ||
+ | The many that are come to pay their vows | ||
+ | With leaves about their brows! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Be still the unimaginable lodge | ||
+ | For solitary thinkings; such as dodge | ||
+ | Conception to the very bourne of heaven, | ||
+ | Then leave the naked brain: be still the leaven, | ||
+ | That spreading in this dull and clodded earth | ||
+ | Gives it a touch ethereal--a new birth: | ||
+ | Be still a symbol of immensity; | ||
+ | A firmament reflected in a sea; | ||
+ | An element filling the space between; | ||
+ | An unknown--but no more: we humbly screen | ||
+ | With uplift hands our foreheads, lowly bending, | ||
+ | And giving out a shout most heaven rending, | ||
+ | Conjure thee to receive our humble Paean, | ||
+ | Upon thy Mount Lycean! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Even while they brought the burden to a close, | ||
+ | A shout from the whole multitude arose, | ||
+ | That lingered in the air like dying rolls | ||
+ | Of abrupt thunder, when Ionian shoals | ||
+ | Of dolphins bob their noses through the brine. | ||
+ | Meantime, on shady levels, mossy fine, | ||
+ | Young companies nimbly began dancing | ||
+ | To the swift treble pipe, and humming string. | ||
+ | Aye, those fair living forms swam heavenly | ||
+ | To tunes forgotten--out of memory: | ||
+ | Fair creatures! whose young children' | ||
+ | Thermopylæ its heroes--not yet dead, | ||
+ | But in old marbles ever beautiful. | ||
+ | High genitors, unconscious did they cull | ||
+ | Time's sweet first-fruits--they danc'd to weariness, | ||
+ | And then in quiet circles did they press | ||
+ | The hillock turf, and caught the latter end | ||
+ | Of some strange history, potent to send | ||
+ | A young mind from its bodily tenement. | ||
+ | Or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, | ||
+ | On either side; pitying the sad death | ||
+ | Of Hyacinthus, when the cruel breath | ||
+ | Of Zephyr slew him, | ||
+ | Who now, ere Phoebus mounts the firmament, | ||
+ | Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain. | ||
+ | The archers too, upon a wider plain, | ||
+ | Beside the feathery whizzing of the shaft, | ||
+ | And the dull twanging bowstring, and the raft | ||
+ | Branch down sweeping from a tall ash top, | ||
+ | Call'd up a thousand thoughts to envelope | ||
+ | Those who would watch. Perhaps, the trembling knee | ||
+ | And frantic gape of lonely Niobe, | ||
+ | Poor, lonely Niobe! when her lovely young | ||
+ | Were dead and gone, and her caressing tongue | ||
+ | Lay a lost thing upon her paly lip, | ||
+ | And very, very deadliness did nip | ||
+ | Her motherly cheeks. Arous' | ||
+ | By one, who at a distance loud halloo' | ||
+ | Uplifting his strong bow into the air, | ||
+ | Many might after brighter visions stare: | ||
+ | After the Argonauts, in blind amaze | ||
+ | Tossing about on Neptune' | ||
+ | Until, from the horizon' | ||
+ | There shot a golden splendour far and wide, | ||
+ | Spangling those million poutings of the brine | ||
+ | With quivering ore: 'twas even an awful shine | ||
+ | From the exaltation of Apollo' | ||
+ | A heavenly beacon in their dreary woe. | ||
+ | Who thus were ripe for high contemplating, | ||
+ | Might turn their steps towards the sober ring | ||
+ | Where sat Endymion and the aged priest | ||
+ | 'Mong shepherds gone in eld, whose looks increas' | ||
+ | The silvery setting of their mortal star. | ||
+ | There they discours' | ||
+ | That keeps us from our homes ethereal; | ||
+ | And what our duties there: to nightly call | ||
+ | Vesper, the beauty-crest of summer weather; | ||
+ | To summon all the downiest clouds together | ||
+ | For the sun's purple couch; to emulate | ||
+ | In ministring the potent rule of fate | ||
+ | With speed of fire-tailed exhalations; | ||
+ | To tint her pallid cheek with bloom, who cons | ||
+ | Sweet poesy by moonlight: besides these, | ||
+ | A world of other unguess' | ||
+ | Anon they wander' | ||
+ | Into Elysium; vieing to rehearse | ||
+ | Each one his own anticipated bliss. | ||
+ | One felt heart-certain that he could not miss | ||
+ | His quick gone love, among fair blossom' | ||
+ | Where every zephyr-sigh pouts and endows | ||
+ | Her lips with music for the welcoming. | ||
+ | Another wish' | ||
+ | To meet his rosy child, with feathery sails, | ||
+ | Sweeping, eye-earnestly, | ||
+ | Who, suddenly, should stoop through the smooth wind, | ||
+ | And with the balmiest leaves his temples bind; | ||
+ | And, ever after, through those regions be | ||
+ | His messenger, his little Mercury. | ||
+ | Some were athirst in soul to see again | ||
+ | Their fellow huntsmen o'er the wide champaign | ||
+ | In times long past; to sit with them, and talk | ||
+ | Of all the chances in their earthly walk; | ||
+ | Comparing, joyfully, their plenteous stores | ||
+ | Of happiness, to when upon the moors, | ||
+ | Benighted, close they huddled from the cold, | ||
+ | And shar'd their famish' | ||
+ | Their fond imaginations, | ||
+ | Whose eyelids curtain' | ||
+ | Endymion: yet hourly had he striven | ||
+ | To hide the cankering venom, that had riven | ||
+ | His fainting recollections. Now indeed | ||
+ | His senses had swoon' | ||
+ | The sudden silence, or the whispers low, | ||
+ | Or the old eyes dissolving at his woe, | ||
+ | Or anxious calls, or close of trembling palms, | ||
+ | Or maiden' | ||
+ | But in the self-same fixed trance he kept, | ||
+ | Like one who on the earth had never stept. | ||
+ | Aye, even as dead-still as a marble man, | ||
+ | Frozen in that old tale Arabian. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Who whispers him so pantingly and close? | ||
+ | Peona, his sweet sister: of all those, | ||
+ | His friends, the dearest. Hushing signs she made, | ||
+ | And breath' | ||
+ | A yielding up, a cradling on her care. | ||
+ | Her eloquence did breathe away the curse: | ||
+ | She led him, like some midnight spirit nurse | ||
+ | Of happy changes in emphatic dreams, | ||
+ | Along a path between two little streams, | ||
+ | Guarding his forehead, with her round elbow, | ||
+ | From low-grown branches, and his footsteps slow | ||
+ | From stumbling over stumps and hillocks small; | ||
+ | Until they came to where these streamlets fall, | ||
+ | With mingled bubblings and a gentle rush, | ||
+ | Into a river, clear, brimful, and flush | ||
+ | With crystal mocking of the trees and sky. | ||
+ | A little shallop, floating there hard by, | ||
+ | Pointed its beak over the fringed bank; | ||
+ | And soon it lightly dipt, and rose, and sank, | ||
+ | And dipt again, with the young couple' | ||
+ | Peona guiding, through the water straight, | ||
+ | Towards a bowery island opposite; | ||
+ | Which gaining presently, she steered light | ||
+ | Into a shady, fresh, and ripply cove, | ||
+ | Where nested was an arbour, overwove | ||
+ | By many a summer' | ||
+ | To whose cool bosom she was used to bring | ||
+ | Her playmates, with their needle broidery, | ||
+ | And minstrel memories of times gone by. | ||
+ | |||
+ | So she was gently glad to see him laid | ||
+ | Under her favourite bower' | ||
+ | On her own couch, new made of flower leaves, | ||
+ | Dried carefully on the cooler side of sheaves | ||
+ | When last the sun his autumn tresses shook, | ||
+ | And the tann'd harvesters rich armfuls took. | ||
+ | Soon was he quieted to slumbrous rest: | ||
+ | But, ere it crept upon him, he had prest | ||
+ | Peona' | ||
+ | And still, a sleeping, held her finger-tips | ||
+ | In tender pressure. And as a willow keeps | ||
+ | A patient watch over the stream that creeps | ||
+ | Windingly by it, so the quiet maid | ||
+ | Held her in peace: so that a whispering blade | ||
+ | Of grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling | ||
+ | Down in the blue-bells, or a wren light rustling | ||
+ | Among seer leaves and twigs, might all be heard. | ||
+ | |||
+ | O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, | ||
+ | That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind | ||
+ | Till it is hush'd and smooth! O unconfin' | ||
+ | Restraint! imprisoned liberty! great key | ||
+ | To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy, | ||
+ | Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves, | ||
+ | Echoing grottos, full of tumbling waves | ||
+ | And moonlight; aye, to all the mazy world | ||
+ | Of silvery enchantment!--who, | ||
+ | Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour, | ||
+ | But renovates and lives? | ||
+ | Endymion was calm'd to life again. | ||
+ | Opening his eyelids with a healthier brain, | ||
+ | He said: "I feel this thine endearing love | ||
+ | All through my bosom: thou art as a dove | ||
+ | Trembling its closed eyes and sleeked wings | ||
+ | About me; and the pearliest dew not brings | ||
+ | Such morning incense from the fields of May, | ||
+ | As do those brighter drops that twinkling stray | ||
+ | From those kind eyes,--the very home and haunt | ||
+ | Of sisterly affection. Can I want | ||
+ | Aught else, aught nearer heaven, than such tears? | ||
+ | Yet dry them up, in bidding hence all fears | ||
+ | That, any longer, I will pass my days | ||
+ | Alone and sad. No, I will once more raise | ||
+ | My voice upon the mountain-heights; | ||
+ | Make my horn parley from their foreheads hoar: | ||
+ | Again my trooping hounds their tongues shall loll | ||
+ | Around the breathed boar: again I'll poll | ||
+ | The fair-grown yew tree, for a chosen bow: | ||
+ | And, when the pleasant sun is getting low, | ||
+ | Again I'll linger in a sloping mead | ||
+ | To hear the speckled thrushes, and see feed | ||
+ | Our idle sheep. So be thou cheered sweet, | ||
+ | And, if thy lute is here, softly intreat | ||
+ | My soul to keep in its resolved course." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Hereat Peona, in their silver source, | ||
+ | Shut her pure sorrow drops with glad exclaim, | ||
+ | And took a lute, from which there pulsing came | ||
+ | A lively prelude, fashioning the way | ||
+ | In which her voice should wander. 'Twas a lay | ||
+ | More subtle cadenced, more forest wild | ||
+ | Than Dryope' | ||
+ | And nothing since has floated in the air | ||
+ | So mournful strange. Surely some influence rare | ||
+ | Went, spiritual, through the damsel' | ||
+ | For still, with Delphic emphasis, she spann' | ||
+ | The quick invisible strings, even though she saw | ||
+ | Endymion' | ||
+ | Before the deep intoxication. | ||
+ | But soon she came, with sudden burst, upon | ||
+ | Her self-possession--swung the lute aside, | ||
+ | And earnestly said: " | ||
+ | That thou dost know of things mysterious, | ||
+ | Immortal, starry; such alone could thus | ||
+ | Weigh down thy nature. Hast thou sinn'd in aught | ||
+ | Offensive to the heavenly powers? Caught | ||
+ | A Paphian dove upon a message sent? | ||
+ | Thy deathful bow against some deer-herd bent, | ||
+ | Sacred to Dian? Haply, thou hast seen | ||
+ | Her naked limbs among the alders green; | ||
+ | And that, alas! is death. No, I can trace | ||
+ | Something more high perplexing in thy face!" | ||
+ | |||
+ | Endymion look'd at her, and press' | ||
+ | And said, "Art thou so pale, who wast so bland | ||
+ | And merry in our meadows? How is this? | ||
+ | Tell me thine ailment: tell me all amiss!-- | ||
+ | Ah! thou hast been unhappy at the change | ||
+ | Wrought suddenly in me. What indeed more strange? | ||
+ | Or more complete to overwhelm surmise? | ||
+ | Ambition is no sluggard: 'tis no prize, | ||
+ | That toiling years would put within my grasp, | ||
+ | That I have sigh'd for: with so deadly gasp | ||
+ | No man e'er panted for a mortal love. | ||
+ | So all have set my heavier grief above | ||
+ | These things which happen. Rightly have they done: | ||
+ | I, who still saw the horizontal sun | ||
+ | Heave his broad shoulder o'er the edge of the world, | ||
+ | Out-facing Lucifer, and then had hurl' | ||
+ | My spear aloft, as signal for the chace-- | ||
+ | I, who, for very sport of heart, would race | ||
+ | With my own steed from Araby; pluck down | ||
+ | A vulture from his towery perching; frown | ||
+ | A lion into growling, loth retire-- | ||
+ | To lose, at once, all my toil breeding fire, | ||
+ | And sink thus low! but I will ease my breast | ||
+ | Of secret grief, here in this bowery nest. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "This river does not see the naked sky, | ||
+ | Till it begins to progress silverly | ||
+ | Around the western border of the wood, | ||
+ | Whence, from a certain spot, its winding flood | ||
+ | Seems at the distance like a crescent moon: | ||
+ | And in that nook, the very pride of June, | ||
+ | Had I been used to pass my weary eves; | ||
+ | The rather for the sun unwilling leaves | ||
+ | So dear a picture of his sovereign power, | ||
+ | And I could witness his most kingly hour, | ||
+ | When he doth lighten up the golden reins, | ||
+ | And paces leisurely down amber plains | ||
+ | His snorting four. Now when his chariot last | ||
+ | Its beams against the zodiac-lion cast, | ||
+ | There blossom' | ||
+ | Of sacred ditamy, and poppies red: | ||
+ | At which I wondered greatly, knowing well | ||
+ | That but one night had wrought this flowery spell; | ||
+ | And, sitting down close by, began to muse | ||
+ | What it might mean. Perhaps, thought I, Morpheus, | ||
+ | In passing here, his owlet pinions shook; | ||
+ | Or, it may be, ere matron Night uptook | ||
+ | Her ebon urn, young Mercury, by stealth, | ||
+ | Had dipt his rod in it: such garland wealth | ||
+ | Came not by common growth. Thus on I thought, | ||
+ | Until my head was dizzy and distraught. | ||
+ | Moreover, through the dancing poppies stole | ||
+ | A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul; | ||
+ | And shaping visions all about my sight | ||
+ | Of colours, wings, and bursts of spangly light; | ||
+ | The which became more strange, and strange, and dim, | ||
+ | And then were gulph' | ||
+ | And then I fell asleep. Ah, can I tell | ||
+ | The enchantment that afterwards befel? | ||
+ | Yet it was but a dream: yet such a dream | ||
+ | That never tongue, although it overteem | ||
+ | With mellow utterance, like a cavern spring, | ||
+ | Could figure out and to conception bring | ||
+ | All I beheld and felt. Methought I lay | ||
+ | Watching the zenith, where the milky way | ||
+ | Among the stars in virgin splendour pours; | ||
+ | And travelling my eye, until the doors | ||
+ | Of heaven appear' | ||
+ | I became loth and fearful to alight | ||
+ | From such high soaring by a downward glance: | ||
+ | So kept me stedfast in that airy trance, | ||
+ | Spreading imaginary pinions wide. | ||
+ | When, presently, the stars began to glide, | ||
+ | And faint away, before my eager view: | ||
+ | At which I sigh'd that I could not pursue, | ||
+ | And dropt my vision to the horizon' | ||
+ | And lo! from opening clouds, I saw emerge | ||
+ | The loveliest moon, that ever silver' | ||
+ | A shell for Neptune' | ||
+ | So passionately bright, my dazzled soul | ||
+ | Commingling with her argent spheres did roll | ||
+ | Through clear and cloudy, even when she went | ||
+ | At last into a dark and vapoury tent-- | ||
+ | Whereat, methought, the lidless-eyed train | ||
+ | Of planets all were in the blue again. | ||
+ | To commune with those orbs, once more I rais' | ||
+ | My sight right upward: but it was quite dazed | ||
+ | By a bright something, sailing down apace, | ||
+ | Making me quickly veil my eyes and face: | ||
+ | Again I look' | ||
+ | Who from Olympus watch our destinies! | ||
+ | Whence that completed form of all completeness? | ||
+ | Whence came that high perfection of all sweetness? | ||
+ | Speak, stubborn earth, and tell me where, O Where | ||
+ | Hast thou a symbol of her golden hair? | ||
+ | Not oat-sheaves drooping in the western sun; | ||
+ | Not--thy soft hand, fair sister! let me shun | ||
+ | Such follying before thee--yet she had, | ||
+ | Indeed, locks bright enough to make me mad; | ||
+ | And they were simply gordian' | ||
+ | Leaving, in naked comeliness, unshaded, | ||
+ | Her pearl round ears, white neck, and orbed brow; | ||
+ | The which were blended in, I know not how, | ||
+ | With such a paradise of lips and eyes, | ||
+ | Blush-tinted cheeks, half smiles, and faintest sighs, | ||
+ | That, when I think thereon, my spirit clings | ||
+ | And plays about its fancy, till the stings | ||
+ | Of human neighbourhood envenom all. | ||
+ | Unto what awful power shall I call? | ||
+ | To what high fane?--Ah! see her hovering feet, | ||
+ | More bluely vein' | ||
+ | Than those of sea-born Venus, when she rose | ||
+ | From out her cradle shell. The wind out-blows | ||
+ | Her scarf into a fluttering pavilion; | ||
+ | 'Tis blue, and over-spangled with a million | ||
+ | Of little eyes, as though thou wert to shed, | ||
+ | Over the darkest, lushest blue-bell bed, | ||
+ | Handfuls of daisies." | ||
+ | Dream within dream!" | ||
+ | And then, towards me, like a very maid, | ||
+ | Came blushing, waning, willing, and afraid, | ||
+ | And press' | ||
+ | Methought I fainted at the charmed touch, | ||
+ | Yet held my recollection, | ||
+ | Who dives three fathoms where the waters run | ||
+ | Gurgling in beds of coral: for anon, | ||
+ | I felt upmounted in that region | ||
+ | Where falling stars dart their artillery forth, | ||
+ | And eagles struggle with the buffeting north | ||
+ | That balances the heavy meteor-stone; | ||
+ | Felt too, I was not fearful, nor alone, | ||
+ | But lapp'd and lull'd along the dangerous sky. | ||
+ | Soon, as it seem' | ||
+ | And straightway into frightful eddies swoop' | ||
+ | Such as ay muster where grey time has scoop' | ||
+ | Huge dens and caverns in a mountain' | ||
+ | There hollow sounds arous' | ||
+ | To faint once more by looking on my bliss-- | ||
+ | I was distracted; madly did I kiss | ||
+ | The wooing arms which held me, and did give | ||
+ | My eyes at once to death: but 'twas to live, | ||
+ | To take in draughts of life from the gold fount | ||
+ | Of kind and passionate looks; to count, and count | ||
+ | The moments, by some greedy help that seem' | ||
+ | A second self, that each might be redeem' | ||
+ | And plunder' | ||
+ | Ah, desperate mortal! I ev'n dar'd to press | ||
+ | Her very cheek against my crowned lip, | ||
+ | And, at that moment, felt my body dip | ||
+ | Into a warmer air: a moment more, | ||
+ | Our feet were soft in flowers. There was store | ||
+ | Of newest joys upon that alp. Sometimes | ||
+ | A scent of violets, and blossoming limes, | ||
+ | Loiter' | ||
+ | Made delicate from all white-flower bells; | ||
+ | And once, above the edges of our nest, | ||
+ | An arch face peep' | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Why did I dream that sleep o' | ||
+ | In midst of all this heaven? Why not see, | ||
+ | Far off, the shadows of his pinions dark, | ||
+ | And stare them from me? But no, like a spark | ||
+ | That needs must die, although its little beam | ||
+ | Reflects upon a diamond, my sweet dream | ||
+ | Fell into nothing--into stupid sleep. | ||
+ | And so it was, until a gentle creep, | ||
+ | A careful moving caught my waking ears, | ||
+ | And up I started: Ah! my sighs, my tears, | ||
+ | My clenched hands;--for lo! the poppies hung | ||
+ | Dew-dabbled on their stalks, the ouzel sung | ||
+ | A heavy ditty, and the sullen day | ||
+ | Had chidden herald Hesperus away, | ||
+ | With leaden looks: the solitary breeze | ||
+ | Bluster' | ||
+ | With wayward melancholy; and r thought, | ||
+ | Mark me, Peona! that sometimes it brought | ||
+ | Faint fare-thee-wells, | ||
+ | Away I wander' | ||
+ | Of heaven and earth had faded: deepest shades | ||
+ | Were deepest dungeons; heaths and sunny glades | ||
+ | Were full of pestilent light; our taintless rills | ||
+ | Seem'd sooty, and o' | ||
+ | Of dying fish; the vermeil rose had blown | ||
+ | In frightful scarlet, and its thorns out-grown | ||
+ | Like spiked aloe. If an innocent bird | ||
+ | Before my heedless footsteps stirr' | ||
+ | In little journeys, I beheld in it | ||
+ | A disguis' | ||
+ | My soul with under darkness; to entice | ||
+ | My stumblings down some monstrous precipice: | ||
+ | Therefore I eager followed, and did curse | ||
+ | The disappointment. Time, that aged nurse, | ||
+ | Rock'd me to patience. Now, thank gentle heaven! | ||
+ | These things, with all their comfortings, | ||
+ | To my down-sunken hours, and with thee, | ||
+ | Sweet sister, help to stem the ebbing sea | ||
+ | Of weary life." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus ended he, and both | ||
+ | Sat silent: for the maid was very loth | ||
+ | To answer; feeling well that breathed words | ||
+ | Would all be lost, unheard, and vain as swords | ||
+ | Against the enchased crocodile, or leaps | ||
+ | Of grasshoppers against the sun. She weeps, | ||
+ | And wonders; struggles to devise some blame; | ||
+ | To put on such a look as would say, Shame | ||
+ | On this poor weakness! but, for all her strife, | ||
+ | She could as soon have crush' | ||
+ | From a sick dove. At length, to break the pause, | ||
+ | She said with trembling chance: "Is this the cause? | ||
+ | This all? Yet it is strange, and sad, alas! | ||
+ | That one who through this middle earth should pass | ||
+ | Most like a sojourning demi-god, and leave | ||
+ | His name upon the harp-string, | ||
+ | No higher bard than simple maidenhood, | ||
+ | Singing alone, and fearfully, | ||
+ | Left his young cheek; and how he used to stray | ||
+ | He knew not where; and how he would say, nay, | ||
+ | If any said 'twas love: and yet 'twas love; | ||
+ | What could it be but love? How a ring-dove | ||
+ | Let fall a sprig of yew tree in his path; | ||
+ | And how he died: and then, that love doth scathe, | ||
+ | The gentle heart, as northern blasts do roses; | ||
+ | And then the ballad of his sad life closes | ||
+ | With sighs, and an alas!--Endymion! | ||
+ | Be rather in the trumpet' | ||
+ | Among the winds at large--that all may hearken! | ||
+ | Although, before the crystal heavens darken, | ||
+ | I watch and dote upon the silver lakes | ||
+ | Pictur' | ||
+ | The semblance of gold rocks and bright gold sands, | ||
+ | Islands, and creeks, and amber-fretted strands | ||
+ | With horses prancing o'er them, palaces | ||
+ | And towers of amethyst, | ||
+ | My pleasant days, because I could not mount | ||
+ | Into those regions? The Morphean fount | ||
+ | Of that fine element that visions, dreams, | ||
+ | And fitful whims of sleep are made of, streams | ||
+ | Into its airy channels with so subtle, | ||
+ | So thin a breathing, not the spider' | ||
+ | Circled a million times within the space | ||
+ | Of a swallow' | ||
+ | A tinting of its quality: how light | ||
+ | Must dreams themselves be; seeing they' | ||
+ | Than the mere nothing that engenders them! | ||
+ | Then wherefore sully the entrusted gem | ||
+ | Of high and noble life with thoughts so sick? | ||
+ | Why pierce high-fronted honour to the quick | ||
+ | For nothing but a dream?" | ||
+ | Look'd up: a conflicting of shame and ruth | ||
+ | Was in his plaited brow: yet his eyelids | ||
+ | Widened a little, as when Zephyr bids | ||
+ | A little breeze to creep between the fans | ||
+ | Of careless butterflies: | ||
+ | He seem'd to taste a drop of manna-dew, | ||
+ | Full palatable; and a colour grew | ||
+ | Upon his cheek, while thus he lifeful spake. | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | My thirst for the world' | ||
+ | No merely slumberous phantasm, could unlace | ||
+ | The stubborn canvas for my voyage prepar' | ||
+ | Though now 'tis tatter' | ||
+ | And sullenly drifting: yet my higher hope | ||
+ | Is of too wide, too rainbow-large a scope, | ||
+ | To fret at myriads of earthly wrecks. | ||
+ | Wherein lies happiness? In that which becks | ||
+ | Our ready minds to fellowship divine, | ||
+ | A fellowship with essence; till we shine, | ||
+ | Full alchemiz' | ||
+ | The clear religion of heaven! Fold | ||
+ | A rose leaf round thy finger' | ||
+ | And soothe thy lips: hist, when the airy stress | ||
+ | Of music' | ||
+ | And with a sympathetic touch unbinds | ||
+ | Eolian magic from their lucid wombs: | ||
+ | Then old songs waken from enclouded tombs; | ||
+ | Old ditties sigh above their father' | ||
+ | Ghosts of melodious prophecyings rave | ||
+ | Round every spot where trod Apollo' | ||
+ | Bronze clarions awake, and faintly bruit, | ||
+ | Where long ago a giant battle was; | ||
+ | And, from the turf, a lullaby doth pass | ||
+ | In every place where infant Orpheus slept. | ||
+ | Feel we these things? | ||
+ | Into a sort of oneness, and our state | ||
+ | Is like a floating spirit' | ||
+ | Richer entanglements, | ||
+ | More self-destroying, | ||
+ | To the chief intensity: the crown of these | ||
+ | Is made of love and friendship, and sits high | ||
+ | Upon the forehead of humanity. | ||
+ | All its more ponderous and bulky worth | ||
+ | Is friendship, whence there ever issues forth | ||
+ | A steady splendour; but at the tip-top, | ||
+ | There hangs by unseen film, an orbed drop | ||
+ | Of light, and that is love: its influence, | ||
+ | Thrown in our eyes, genders a novel sense, | ||
+ | At which we start and fret; till in the end, | ||
+ | Melting into its radiance, we blend, | ||
+ | Mingle, and so become a part of it,-- | ||
+ | Nor with aught else can our souls interknit | ||
+ | So wingedly: when we combine therewith, | ||
+ | Life's self is nourish' | ||
+ | And we are nurtured like a pelican brood. | ||
+ | Aye, so delicious is the unsating food, | ||
+ | That men, who might have tower' | ||
+ | Of all the congregated world, to fan | ||
+ | And winnow from the coming step of time | ||
+ | All chaff of custom, wipe away all slime | ||
+ | Left by men-slugs and human serpentry, | ||
+ | Have been content to let occasion die, | ||
+ | Whilst they did sleep in love's elysium. | ||
+ | And, truly, I would rather be struck dumb, | ||
+ | Than speak against this ardent listlessness: | ||
+ | For I have ever thought that it might bless | ||
+ | The world with benefits unknowingly; | ||
+ | As does the nightingale, | ||
+ | And cloister' | ||
+ | She sings but to her love, nor e'er conceives | ||
+ | How tiptoe Night holds back her dark-grey hood. | ||
+ | Just so may love, although 'tis understood | ||
+ | The mere commingling of passionate breath, | ||
+ | Produce more than our searching witnesseth: | ||
+ | What I know not: but who, of men, can tell | ||
+ | That flowers would bloom, or that green fruit would swell | ||
+ | To melting pulp, that fish would have bright mail, | ||
+ | The earth its dower of river, wood, and vale, | ||
+ | The meadows runnels, runnels pebble-stones, | ||
+ | The seed its harvest, or the lute its tones, | ||
+ | Tones ravishment, or ravishment its sweet, | ||
+ | If human souls did never kiss and greet? | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Now, if this earthly love has power to make | ||
+ | Men's being mortal, immortal; to shake | ||
+ | Ambition from their memories, and brim | ||
+ | Their measure of content; what merest whim, | ||
+ | Seems all this poor endeavour after fame, | ||
+ | To one, who keeps within his stedfast aim | ||
+ | A love immortal, an immortal too. | ||
+ | Look not so wilder' | ||
+ | And never can be born of atomies | ||
+ | That buzz about our slumbers, like brain-flies, | ||
+ | Leaving us fancy-sick. No, no, I'm sure, | ||
+ | My restless spirit never could endure | ||
+ | To brood so long upon one luxury, | ||
+ | Unless it did, though fearfully, espy | ||
+ | A hope beyond the shadow of a dream. | ||
+ | My sayings will the less obscured seem, | ||
+ | When I have told thee how my waking sight | ||
+ | Has made me scruple whether that same night | ||
+ | Was pass'd in dreaming. Hearken, sweet Peona! | ||
+ | Beyond the matron-temple of Latona, | ||
+ | Which we should see but for these darkening boughs, | ||
+ | Lies a deep hollow, from whose ragged brows | ||
+ | Bushes and trees do lean all round athwart, | ||
+ | And meet so nearly, that with wings outraught, | ||
+ | And spreaded tail, a vulture could not glide | ||
+ | Past them, but he must brush on every side. | ||
+ | Some moulder' | ||
+ | Far as the slabbed margin of a well, | ||
+ | Whose patient level peeps its crystal eye | ||
+ | Right upward, through the bushes, to the sky. | ||
+ | Oft have I brought thee flowers, on their stalks set | ||
+ | Like vestal primroses, but dark velvet | ||
+ | Edges them round, and they have golden pits: | ||
+ | 'Twas there I got them, from the gaps and slits | ||
+ | In a mossy stone, that sometimes was my seat, | ||
+ | When all above was faint with mid-day heat. | ||
+ | And there in strife no burning thoughts to heed, | ||
+ | I'd bubble up the water through a reed; | ||
+ | So reaching back to boy-hood: make me ships | ||
+ | Of moulted feathers, touchwood, alder chips, | ||
+ | With leaves stuck in them; and the Neptune be | ||
+ | Of their petty ocean. Oftener, heavily, | ||
+ | When love-lorn hours had left me less a child, | ||
+ | I sat contemplating the figures wild | ||
+ | Of o' | ||
+ | Upon a day, while thus I watch' | ||
+ | A cloudy Cupid, with his bow and quiver; | ||
+ | So plainly character' | ||
+ | The happy chance: so happy, I was fain | ||
+ | To follow it upon the open plain, | ||
+ | And, therefore, was just going; when, behold! | ||
+ | A wonder, fair as any I have told-- | ||
+ | The same bright face I tasted in my sleep, | ||
+ | Smiling in the clear well. My heart did leap | ||
+ | Through the cool depth.--It moved as if to flee-- | ||
+ | I started up, when lo! refreshfully, | ||
+ | There came upon my face, in plenteous showers, | ||
+ | Dew-drops, and dewy buds, and leaves, and flowers, | ||
+ | Wrapping all objects from my smothered sight, | ||
+ | Bathing my spirit in a new delight. | ||
+ | Aye, such a breathless honey-feel of bliss | ||
+ | Alone preserved me from the drear abyss | ||
+ | Of death, for the fair form had gone again. | ||
+ | Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain | ||
+ | Clings cruelly to us, like the gnawing sloth | ||
+ | On the deer's tender haunches: late, and loth, | ||
+ | 'Tis scar'd away by slow returning pleasure. | ||
+ | How sickening, how dark the dreadful leisure | ||
+ | Of weary days, made deeper exquisite, | ||
+ | By a fore-knowledge of unslumbrous night! | ||
+ | Like sorrow came upon me, heavier still, | ||
+ | Than when I wander' | ||
+ | And a whole age of lingering moments crept | ||
+ | Sluggishly by, ere more contentment swept | ||
+ | Away at once the deadly yellow spleen. | ||
+ | Yes, thrice have I this fair enchantment seen; | ||
+ | Once more been tortured with renewed life. | ||
+ | When last the wintry gusts gave over strife | ||
+ | With the conquering sun of spring, and left the skies | ||
+ | Warm and serene, but yet with moistened eyes | ||
+ | In pity of the shatter' | ||
+ | That time thou didst adorn, with amber studs, | ||
+ | My hunting cap, because I laugh' | ||
+ | Chatted with thee, and many days exil' | ||
+ | All torment from my breast; | ||
+ | Straying about, yet, coop'd up in the den | ||
+ | Of helpless discontent, | ||
+ | From place to place, and following at chance, | ||
+ | At last, by hap, through some young trees it struck, | ||
+ | And, plashing among bedded pebbles, stuck | ||
+ | In the middle of a brook, | ||
+ | Down twenty little falls, through reeds and bramble, | ||
+ | Tracing along, it brought me to a cave, | ||
+ | Whence it ran brightly forth, and white did lave | ||
+ | The nether sides of mossy stones and rock,-- | ||
+ | 'Mong which it gurgled blythe adieus, to mock | ||
+ | Its own sweet grief at parting. Overhead, | ||
+ | Hung a lush screen of drooping weeds, and spread | ||
+ | Thick, as to curtain up some wood-nymph' | ||
+ | "Ah! impious mortal, whither do I roam?" | ||
+ | Said I, low voic' | ||
+ | Of Proserpine, when Hell, obscure and hot, | ||
+ | Doth her resign; and where her tender hands | ||
+ | She dabbles, on the cool and sluicy sands: | ||
+ | Or 'tis the cell of Echo, where she sits, | ||
+ | And babbles thorough silence, till her wits | ||
+ | Are gone in tender madness, and anon, | ||
+ | Faints into sleep, with many a dying tone | ||
+ | Of sadness. O that she would take my vows, | ||
+ | And breathe them sighingly among the boughs, | ||
+ | To sue her gentle ears for whose fair head, | ||
+ | Daily, I pluck sweet flowerets from their bed, | ||
+ | And weave them dyingly--send honey-whispers | ||
+ | Round every leaf, that all those gentle lispers | ||
+ | May sigh my love unto her pitying! | ||
+ | O charitable echo! hear, and sing | ||
+ | This ditty to her!--tell her" | ||
+ | My foolish tongue, and listening, half afraid, | ||
+ | Stood stupefied with my own empty folly, | ||
+ | And blushing for the freaks of melancholy. | ||
+ | Salt tears were coming, when I heard my name | ||
+ | Most fondly lipp' | ||
+ | ‘Endymion! the cave is secreter | ||
+ | Than the isle of Delos. Echo hence shall stir | ||
+ | No sighs but sigh-warm kisses, or light noise | ||
+ | Of thy combing hand, the while it travelling cloys | ||
+ | And trembles through my labyrinthine hair." | ||
+ | At that oppress' | ||
+ | Are those swift moments? Whither are they fled? | ||
+ | I'll smile no more, Peona; nor will wed | ||
+ | Sorrow the way to death, but patiently | ||
+ | Bear up against it: so farewel, sad sigh; | ||
+ | And come instead demurest meditation, | ||
+ | To occupy me wholly, and to fashion | ||
+ | My pilgrimage for the world' | ||
+ | No more will I count over, link by link, | ||
+ | My chain of grief: no longer strive to find | ||
+ | A half-forgetfulness in mountain wind | ||
+ | Blustering about my ears: aye, thou shalt see, | ||
+ | Dearest of sisters, what my life shall be; | ||
+ | What a calm round of hours shall make my days. | ||
+ | There is a paly flame of hope that plays | ||
+ | Where' | ||
+ | And here I bid it die. Have not I caught, | ||
+ | Already, a more healthy countenance? | ||
+ | By this the sun is setting; we may chance | ||
+ | Meet some of our near-dwellers with my car." | ||
+ | |||
+ | This said, he rose, faint-smiling like a star | ||
+ | Through autumn mists, and took Peona' | ||
+ | They stept into the boat, and launch' | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 24. Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast As Thou Art | < | ||
+ | Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art— | ||
+ | Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night | ||
+ | And watching, with eternal lids apart, | ||
+ | Like nature' | ||
+ | The moving waters at their priestlike task | ||
+ | Of pure ablution round earth' | ||
+ | Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask | ||
+ | Of snow upon the mountains and the moors— | ||
+ | No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, | ||
+ | Pillow' | ||
+ | To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, | ||
+ | Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, | ||
+ | Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, | ||
+ | And so live ever—or else swoon to death. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 25. Robin Hood | < | ||
+ | to a friend | ||
+ | |||
+ | No! those days are gone away | ||
+ | And their hours are old and gray, | ||
+ | And their minutes buried all | ||
+ | Under the down-trodden pall | ||
+ | Of the leaves of many years: | ||
+ | Many times have winter' | ||
+ | Frozen North, and chilling East, | ||
+ | Sounded tempests to the feast | ||
+ | Of the forest' | ||
+ | Since men knew nor rent nor leases. | ||
+ | |||
+ | No, the bugle sounds no more, | ||
+ | And the twanging bow no more; | ||
+ | Silent is the ivory shrill | ||
+ | Past the heath and up the hill; | ||
+ | There is no mid-forest laugh, | ||
+ | Where lone Echo gives the half | ||
+ | To some wight, amaz'd to hear | ||
+ | Jesting, deep in forest drear. | ||
+ | |||
+ | On the fairest time of June | ||
+ | You may go, with sun or moon, | ||
+ | Or the seven stars to light you, | ||
+ | Or the polar ray to right you; | ||
+ | But you never may behold | ||
+ | Little John, or Robin bold; | ||
+ | Never one, of all the clan, | ||
+ | Thrumming on an empty can | ||
+ | Some old hunting ditty, while | ||
+ | He doth his green way beguile | ||
+ | To fair hostess Merriment, | ||
+ | Down beside the pasture Trent; | ||
+ | For he left the merry tale | ||
+ | Messenger for spicy ale. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Gone, the merry morris din; | ||
+ | Gone, the song of Gamelyn; | ||
+ | Gone, the tough-belted outlaw | ||
+ | Idling in the " | ||
+ | All are gone away and past! | ||
+ | And if Robin should be cast | ||
+ | Sudden from his turfed grave, | ||
+ | And if Marian should have | ||
+ | Once again her forest days, | ||
+ | She would weep, and he would craze: | ||
+ | He would swear, for all his oaks, | ||
+ | Fall'n beneath the dockyard strokes, | ||
+ | Have rotted on the briny seas; | ||
+ | She would weep that her wild bees | ||
+ | Sang not to her--strange! that honey | ||
+ | Can't be got without hard money! | ||
+ | |||
+ | So it is: yet let us sing, | ||
+ | Honour to the old bow-string! | ||
+ | Honour to the bugle-horn! | ||
+ | Honour to the woods unshorn! | ||
+ | Honour to the Lincoln green! | ||
+ | Honour to the archer keen! | ||
+ | Honour to tight little John, | ||
+ | And the horse he rode upon! | ||
+ | Honour to bold Robin Hood, | ||
+ | Sleeping in the underwood! | ||
+ | Honour to maid Marian, | ||
+ | And to all the Sherwood-clan! | ||
+ | Though their days have hurried by | ||
+ | Let us two a burden try. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 26. On Fame | < | ||
+ | Fame, like a wayward girl, will still be coy | ||
+ | To those who woo her with too slavish knees, | ||
+ | But makes surrender to some thoughtless boy, | ||
+ | And dotes the more upon a heart at ease; | ||
+ | She is a Gypsy, | ||
+ | Who have not learnt to be content without her; | ||
+ | A Jilt, whose ear was never whispered close, | ||
+ | Who thinks they scandal her who talk about her; | ||
+ | A very Gypsy is she, Nilus-born, | ||
+ | Sister-in-law to jealous Potiphar; | ||
+ | Ye love-sick Bards! repay her scorn for scorn; | ||
+ | Ye Artists lovelorn! madmen that ye are! | ||
+ | Makeyour best bow to her and bid adieu, | ||
+ | Then, if she likes it, she will follow you. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 27. On Seeing The Elgin Marbles For The First Time | < | ||
+ | My spirit is too weak; mortality | ||
+ | Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, | ||
+ | And each imagined pinnacle and steep | ||
+ | Of godlike hardship tells me I must die | ||
+ | Like a sick eagle looking at the sky. | ||
+ | Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep, | ||
+ | That I have not the cloudy winds to keep | ||
+ | Fresh for the opening of the morning' | ||
+ | Such dim-conceived glories of the brain | ||
+ | Bring round the heart an indescribable feud; | ||
+ | So do these wonders a most dizzy pain, | ||
+ | That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude | ||
+ | Wasting of old Time—with a billowy main, | ||
+ | A sun, a shadow of a magnitude. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 28. Why Did I Laugh Tonight? No Voice Will Tell | < | ||
+ | Why did I laugh tonight? No voice will tell: | ||
+ | No God, no Demon of severe response, | ||
+ | Deigns to reply from Heaven or from Hell. | ||
+ | Then to my human heart I turn at once. | ||
+ | Heart! Thou and I are here, sad and alone; | ||
+ | I say, why did I laugh? O mortal pain! | ||
+ | O Darkness! Darkness! ever must I moan, | ||
+ | To question Heaven and Hell and Heart in vain. | ||
+ | Why did I laugh? I know this Being' | ||
+ | My fancy to its utmost blisses spreads; | ||
+ | Yet would I on this very midnight cease, | ||
+ | And the world' | ||
+ | Verse, Fame, and Beauty are intense indeed, | ||
+ | But Death intenser—Death is Life's high meed. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 29. To A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses | < | ||
+ | As late I rambled in the happy fields, | ||
+ | What time the skylark shakes the tremulous dew | ||
+ | From his lush clover covert; | ||
+ | Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields; | ||
+ | I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields, | ||
+ | A fresh-blown musk-rose; 'twas the first that threw | ||
+ | Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew | ||
+ | As is the wand that Queen Titania wields. | ||
+ | And, as I feasted on its fragrancy, | ||
+ | I thought the garden-rose it far excelled; | ||
+ | But when, O Wells! thy roses came to me, | ||
+ | My sense with their deliciousness was spelled: | ||
+ | Soft voices had they, that with tender plea | ||
+ | Whispered of peace, and truth, and friendliness unquelled. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 30. Happy Is England! I Could Be Content | < | ||
+ | Happy is England! I could be content | ||
+ | To see no other verdure than its own; | ||
+ | To feel no other breezes than are blown | ||
+ | Through its tall woods with high romances blent; | ||
+ | Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment | ||
+ | For skies Italian, and an inward groan | ||
+ | To sit upon an Alp as on a throne, | ||
+ | And half forget what world or worldling meant. | ||
+ | Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters; | ||
+ | Enough their simple loveliness for me, | ||
+ | Enough their whitest arms in silence clinging; | ||
+ | Yet do I often warmly burn to see | ||
+ | Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing, | ||
+ | And float with them about the summer waters. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 31. Epistle To My Brother George | < | ||
+ | Full many a dreary hour have I past, | ||
+ | My brain bewildered, and my mind o' | ||
+ | With heaviness; in seasons when I've thought | ||
+ | No spherey strains by me could e'er be caught | ||
+ | From the blue dome, though I to dimness gaze | ||
+ | On the far depth where sheeted lightning plays; | ||
+ | Or, on the wavy grass outstretched supinely, | ||
+ | Pry 'mong the stars, to strive to think divinely: | ||
+ | That I should never hear Apollo' | ||
+ | Though feathery clouds were floating all along | ||
+ | The purple west, and, two bright streaks between, | ||
+ | The golden lyre itself were dimly seen: | ||
+ | That the still murmur of the honey bee | ||
+ | Would never teach a rural song to me: | ||
+ | That the bright glance from beauty' | ||
+ | Would never make a lay of mine enchanting, | ||
+ | Or warm my breast with ardour to unfold | ||
+ | Some tale of love and arms in time of old. | ||
+ | |||
+ | But there are times, when those that love the bay, | ||
+ | Fly from all sorrowing far, far away; | ||
+ | A sudden glow comes on them, nought they see | ||
+ | In water, earth, or air, but poesy. | ||
+ | It has been said, dear George, and true I hold it, | ||
+ | (For knightly Spenser to Libertas told it,) | ||
+ | That when a Poet is in such a trance, | ||
+ | In air her sees white coursers paw, and prance, | ||
+ | Bestridden of gay knights, in gay apparel, | ||
+ | Who at each other tilt in playful quarrel, | ||
+ | And what we, ignorantly, sheet-lightning call, | ||
+ | Is the swift opening of their wide portal, | ||
+ | When the bright warder blows his trumpet clear, | ||
+ | Whose tones reach nought on earth but Poet's ear. | ||
+ | When these enchanted portals open wide, | ||
+ | And through the light the horsemen swiftly glide, | ||
+ | The Poet's eye can reach those golden halls, | ||
+ | And view the glory of their festivals: | ||
+ | Their ladies fair, that in the distance seem | ||
+ | Fit for the silv' | ||
+ | Their rich brimmed goblets, that incessant run | ||
+ | Like the bright spots that move about the sun; | ||
+ | And, when upheld, the wine from each bright jar | ||
+ | Pours with the lustre of a falling star. | ||
+ | Yet further off, are dimly seen their bowers, | ||
+ | Of which, no mortal eye can reach the flowers; | ||
+ | And 'tis right just, for well Apollo knows | ||
+ | ' | ||
+ | All that's revealed from that far seat of blisses | ||
+ | Is the clear fountains' | ||
+ | As gracefully descending, light and thin, | ||
+ | Like silver streaks across a dolphin' | ||
+ | When he upswimmeth from the coral caves, | ||
+ | And sports with half his tail above the waves. | ||
+ | |||
+ | These wonders strange he sees, and many more, | ||
+ | Whose head is pregnant with poetic lore. | ||
+ | Should he upon an evening ramble fare | ||
+ | With forehead to the soothing breezes bare, | ||
+ | Would he nought see but the dark, silent blue | ||
+ | With all its diamonds trembling through and through? | ||
+ | Or the coy moon, when in the waviness | ||
+ | Of whitest clouds she does her beauty dress, | ||
+ | And staidly paces higher up, and higher, | ||
+ | Like a sweet nun in holy-day attire? | ||
+ | Ah, yes! much more would start into his sight— | ||
+ | The revelries and mysteries of night: | ||
+ | And should I ever see them, I will tell you | ||
+ | Such tales as needs must with amazement spell you. | ||
+ | |||
+ | These are the living pleasures of the bard: | ||
+ | But richer far posterity' | ||
+ | What does he murmur with his latest breath, | ||
+ | While his proud eye looks though the film of death? | ||
+ | "What though I leave this dull and earthly mould, | ||
+ | Yet shall my spirit lofty converse hold | ||
+ | With after times.—The patriot shall feel | ||
+ | My stern alarum, and unsheath his steel; | ||
+ | Or, in the senate thunder out my numbers | ||
+ | To startle princes from their easy slumbers. | ||
+ | The sage will mingle with each moral theme | ||
+ | My happy thoughts sententious; | ||
+ | With lofty periods when my verses fire him, | ||
+ | And then I'll stoop from heaven to inspire him. | ||
+ | Lays have I left of such a dear delight | ||
+ | That maids will sing them on their bridal night. | ||
+ | Gay villagers, upon a morn of May, | ||
+ | When they have tired their gentle limbs with play | ||
+ | And formed a snowy circle on the grass, | ||
+ | And placed in midst of all that lovely lass | ||
+ | Who chosen is their queen, | ||
+ | Crowned with flowers purple, white, and red: | ||
+ | For there the lily, and the musk-rose, sighing, | ||
+ | Are emblems true of hapless lovers dying: | ||
+ | Between her breasts, that never yet felt trouble, | ||
+ | A bunch of violets full blown, and double, | ||
+ | Serenely sleep: | ||
+ | A little book,—and then a joy awakes | ||
+ | About each youthful heart, | ||
+ | And rubbing of white hands, and sparkling eyes: | ||
+ | For she's to read a tale of hopes, and fears; | ||
+ | One that I fostered in my youthful years: | ||
+ | The pearls, that on each glist' | ||
+ | Must ever and anon with silent creep, | ||
+ | Lured by the innocent dimples. To sweet rest | ||
+ | Shall the dear babe, upon its mother' | ||
+ | Be lulled with songs of mine. Fair world, adieu! | ||
+ | Thy dales, and hills, are fading from my view: | ||
+ | Swiftly I mount, upon wide spreading pinions, | ||
+ | Far from the narrow bound of thy dominions. | ||
+ | Full joy I feel, while thus I cleave the air, | ||
+ | That my soft verse will charm thy daughters fair, | ||
+ | And warm thy sons!" Ah, my dear friend and brother, | ||
+ | Could I, at once, my mad ambition smother, | ||
+ | For tasting joys like these, sure I should be | ||
+ | Happier, and dearer to society. | ||
+ | At times, 'tis true, I've felt relief from pain | ||
+ | When some bright thought has darted through my brain: | ||
+ | Through all that day I've felt a greater pleasure | ||
+ | Than if I'd brought to light a hidden treasure. | ||
+ | As to my sonnets, though none else should heed them, | ||
+ | I feel delighted, still, that you should read them. | ||
+ | Of late, too, I have had much calm enjoyment, | ||
+ | Stretched on the grass at my best loved employment | ||
+ | Of scribbling lines for you. These things I thought | ||
+ | While, in my face, the freshest breeze I caught. | ||
+ | E'en now I'm pillowed on a bed of flowers | ||
+ | That crowns a lofty clift, which proudly towers | ||
+ | Above the ocean-waves, | ||
+ | Chequer my tablet with their quivering shades. | ||
+ | On one side is a field of drooping oats, | ||
+ | Through which the poppies show their scarlet coats; | ||
+ | So pert and useless, that they bring to mind | ||
+ | The scarlet coats that pester human-kind. | ||
+ | And on the other side, outspread, is seen | ||
+ | Ocean' | ||
+ | Now 'tis I see a canvassed ship, and now | ||
+ | Mark the bright silver curling round her prow. | ||
+ | I see the lark dowm-dropping to his nest, | ||
+ | And the broad winged sea-gull never at rest; | ||
+ | For when no more he spreads his feathers free, | ||
+ | His breast is dancing on the restless sea. | ||
+ | Now I direct my eyes into the west, | ||
+ | Which at this moment is in sunbeams drest: | ||
+ | Why westward turn? 'Twas but to say adieu! | ||
+ | 'Twas but to kiss my hand, dear George, to you! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 32. Written On A Summer Evening | < | ||
+ | The church bells toll a melancholy round, | ||
+ | Calling the people to some other prayers, | ||
+ | Some other gloominess, more dreadful cares, | ||
+ | More harkening to the sermon' | ||
+ | Surely the mind of man is closely bound | ||
+ | In some blind spell: seeing that each one tears | ||
+ | Himself from fireside joys and Lydian airs, | ||
+ | And converse high of those with glory crowned. | ||
+ | Still, still they toll, and I should feel a damp, | ||
+ | A chill as from a tomb, did I not know | ||
+ | That they are dying like an outburnt lamp,— | ||
+ | That 'tis their sighing, wailing, ere they go | ||
+ | Into oblivion—that fresh flowers will grow, | ||
+ | And many glories of immortal stamp. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 33. The Day Is Gone, And All Its Sweets Are Gone | < | ||
+ | The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone! | ||
+ | Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast, | ||
+ | Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone, | ||
+ | Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang' | ||
+ | Faded the flower and all its budded charms, | ||
+ | Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes, | ||
+ | Faded the shape of beauty from my arms, | ||
+ | Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise— | ||
+ | Vanished unseasonably at shut of eve, | ||
+ | When the dusk holiday—or holinight | ||
+ | Of fragrant-curtained love begins to weave | ||
+ | The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight; | ||
+ | But, as I've read love's missal through today, | ||
+ | He'll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 34. To A Young Lady Who Sent Me A Laurel Crown | < | ||
+ | Fresh morning gusts have blown away all fear | ||
+ | From my glad bosom, | ||
+ | I mount for ever—not an atom less | ||
+ | Than the proud laurel shall content my bier. | ||
+ | No! by the eternal stars! or why sit here | ||
+ | In the Sun's eye, and ' | ||
+ | Apollo' | ||
+ | By thy white fingers and thy spirit clear. | ||
+ | Lo! who dares say, "Do this"? Who dares call down | ||
+ | My will from its high purpose? Who say," | ||
+ | Or, " | ||
+ | On abject Caesars—not the stoutest band | ||
+ | Of mailed heroes should tear off my crown: | ||
+ | Yet would I kneel and kiss thy gentle hand. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 35. Hither, Hither, Love | < | ||
+ | Hither hither, love--- | ||
+ | 'Tis a shady mead--- | ||
+ | Hither, hither, love! | ||
+ | Let us feed and feed! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Hither, hither, sweet--- | ||
+ | 'Tis a cowslip bed--- | ||
+ | Hither, hither, sweet! | ||
+ | 'Tis with dew bespread! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Hither, hither, dear | ||
+ | By the breath of life, | ||
+ | Hither, hither, dear!--- | ||
+ | Be the summer' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Though one moment' | ||
+ | In one moment flies--- | ||
+ | Though the passion' | ||
+ | In one moment dies;--- | ||
+ | |||
+ | Yet it has not passed--- | ||
+ | Think how near, how near!--- | ||
+ | And while it doth last, | ||
+ | Think how dear, how dear! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Hither, hither, hither | ||
+ | Love its boon has sent--- | ||
+ | If I die and wither | ||
+ | I shall die content! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 36. O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell | < | ||
+ | O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell, | ||
+ | Let it not be among the jumbled heap | ||
+ | Of murky buildings: climb with me the steep,— | ||
+ | Nature' | ||
+ | In flowery slopes, its river' | ||
+ | May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep | ||
+ | ' | ||
+ | Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell. | ||
+ | But though I'll gladly trace these scenes with thee, | ||
+ | Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind, | ||
+ | Whose words are images of thoughts refined, | ||
+ | Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be | ||
+ | Almost the highest bliss of human-kind, | ||
+ | When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 37. If By Dull Rhymes Our English Must Be Chain' | ||
+ | If by dull rhymes our English must be chain' | ||
+ | And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet | ||
+ | Fetter' | ||
+ | Let us find out, if we must be constrain' | ||
+ | Sandals more interwoven and complete | ||
+ | To fit the naked foot of poesy; | ||
+ | Let us inspect the lyre, and weigh the stress | ||
+ | Of every chord, and see what may be gain' | ||
+ | By ear industrious, | ||
+ | Misers of sound and syllable, no less | ||
+ | Than Midas of his coinage, let us be | ||
+ | Jealous of dead leaves in the bay wreath crown; | ||
+ | So, if we may not let the Muse be free, | ||
+ | She will be bound with garlands of her own. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 38. Hymn To Apollo | < | ||
+ | God of the golden bow, | ||
+ | And of the golden lyre, | ||
+ | And of the golden hair, | ||
+ | And of the golden fire, | ||
+ | Charioteer | ||
+ | Of the patient year, | ||
+ | Where---where slept thine ire, | ||
+ | When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath, | ||
+ | Thy laurel, thy glory, | ||
+ | The light of thy story, | ||
+ | Or was I a worm---too low crawling for death? | ||
+ | O Delphic Apollo! | ||
+ | |||
+ | The Thunderer grasp' | ||
+ | The Thunderer frown' | ||
+ | The eagle' | ||
+ | For wrath became stiffen' | ||
+ | Of breeding thunder | ||
+ | Went drowsily under, | ||
+ | Muttering to be unbound. | ||
+ | O why didst thou pity, and beg for a worm? | ||
+ | Why touch thy soft lute | ||
+ | Till the thunder was mute, | ||
+ | Why was I not crush' | ||
+ | O Delphic Apollo! | ||
+ | |||
+ | The Pleiades were up, | ||
+ | Watching the silent air; | ||
+ | The seeds and roots in Earth | ||
+ | Were swelling for summer fare; | ||
+ | The Ocean, its neighbour, | ||
+ | Was at his old labour, | ||
+ | When, who---who did dare | ||
+ | To tie for a moment, thy plant round his brow, | ||
+ | And grin and look proudly, | ||
+ | And blaspheme so loudly, | ||
+ | And live for that honour, to stoop to thee now? | ||
+ | O Delphic Apollo! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 39. On Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again | < | ||
+ | |||
+ | O golden-tongued Romance with serene lute! | ||
+ | Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away! | ||
+ | Leave melodizing on this wintry day, | ||
+ | Shut up thine olden pages, and be mute: | ||
+ | Adieu! for once again the fierce dispute, | ||
+ | Betwixt damnation and impassion' | ||
+ | Must I burn through; once more humbly assay | ||
+ | The bitter-sweet of this Shakespearian fruit. | ||
+ | Chief Poet! and ye clouds of Albion, | ||
+ | Begetters of our deep eternal theme, | ||
+ | When through the old oak forest I am gone, | ||
+ | Let me not wander in a barren dream, | ||
+ | But when I am consumed in the fire, | ||
+ | Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 40. To Fanny | < | ||
+ | I cry your mercy—pity—love!—aye, | ||
+ | Merciful love that tantalizes not, | ||
+ | One-thoughted, | ||
+ | Unmasked, and being seen—without a blot! | ||
+ | O! let me have thee whole, | ||
+ | That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest | ||
+ | Of love, your kiss, | ||
+ | That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast, | ||
+ | Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all, | ||
+ | Withhold no atom's atom or I die, | ||
+ | Or living on, perhaps, your wretched thrall, | ||
+ | Forget, in the mist of idle misery, | ||
+ | Life's purposes, | ||
+ | Losing its gust, and my ambition blind! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 41. Endymion: Book IV | < | ||
+ | Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! | ||
+ | O first-born on the mountains! by the hues | ||
+ | Of heaven on the spiritual air begot: | ||
+ | Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot, | ||
+ | While yet our England was a wolfish den; | ||
+ | Before our forests heard the talk of men; | ||
+ | Before the first of Druids was a child;-- | ||
+ | Long didst thou sit amid our regions wild | ||
+ | Rapt in a deep prophetic solitude. | ||
+ | There came an eastern voice of solemn mood:-- | ||
+ | Yet wast thou patient. Then sang forth the Nine, | ||
+ | Apollo' | ||
+ | Such home-bred glory, that they cry'd in vain, | ||
+ | "Come hither, Sister of the Island!" | ||
+ | Spake fair Ausonia; and once more she spake | ||
+ | A higher summons: | ||
+ | Thee to thy native hopes. O thou hast won | ||
+ | A full accomplishment! The thing is done, | ||
+ | Which undone, these our latter days had risen | ||
+ | On barren souls. Great Muse, thou know' | ||
+ | Of flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets | ||
+ | Our spirit' | ||
+ | Our pillows; and the fresh to-morrow morn | ||
+ | Seems to give forth its light in very scorn | ||
+ | Of our dull, uninspired, snail-paced lives. | ||
+ | Long have I said, how happy he who shrives | ||
+ | To thee! But then I thought on poets gone, | ||
+ | And could not pray:--nor can I now--so on | ||
+ | I move to the end in lowliness of heart.---- | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Ah, woe is me! that I should fondly part | ||
+ | From my dear native land! Ah, foolish maid! | ||
+ | Glad was the hour, when, with thee, myriads bade | ||
+ | Adieu to Ganges and their pleasant fields! | ||
+ | To one so friendless the clear freshet yields | ||
+ | A bitter coolness, the ripe grape is sour: | ||
+ | Yet I would have, great gods! but one short hour | ||
+ | Of native air--let me but die at home." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Endymion to heaven' | ||
+ | Was offering up a hecatomb of vows, | ||
+ | When these words reach' | ||
+ | His head through thorny-green entanglement | ||
+ | Of underwood, and to the sound is bent, | ||
+ | Anxious as hind towards her hidden fawn. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Is no one near to help me? No fair dawn | ||
+ | Of life from charitable voice? No sweet saying | ||
+ | To set my dull and sadden' | ||
+ | No hand to toy with mine? No lips so sweet | ||
+ | That I may worship them? No eyelids meet | ||
+ | To twinkle on my bosom? No one dies | ||
+ | Before me, till from these enslaving eyes | ||
+ | Redemption sparkles!--I am sad and lost." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thou, Carian lord, hadst better have been tost | ||
+ | Into a whirlpool. Vanish into air, | ||
+ | Warm mountaineer! for canst thou only bear | ||
+ | A woman' | ||
+ | See not her charms! Is Phoebe passionless? | ||
+ | Phoebe is fairer far--O gaze no more:-- | ||
+ | Yet if thou wilt behold all beauty' | ||
+ | Behold her panting in the forest grass! | ||
+ | Do not those curls of glossy jet surpass | ||
+ | For tenderness the arms so idly lain | ||
+ | Amongst them? Feelest not a kindred pain, | ||
+ | To see such lovely eyes in swimming search | ||
+ | After some warm delight, that seems to perch | ||
+ | Dovelike in the dim cell lying beyond | ||
+ | Their upper lids? | ||
+ | To touch this flower into human shape! | ||
+ | That woodland Hyacinthus could escape | ||
+ | From his green prison, and here kneeling down | ||
+ | Call me his queen, his second life's fair crown! | ||
+ | Ah me, how I could love!--My soul doth melt | ||
+ | For the unhappy youth--Love! I have felt | ||
+ | So faint a kindness, such a meek surrender | ||
+ | To what my own full thoughts had made too tender, | ||
+ | That but for tears my life had fled away!-- | ||
+ | Ye deaf and senseless minutes of the day, | ||
+ | And thou, old forest, hold ye this for true, | ||
+ | There is no lightning, no authentic dew | ||
+ | But in the eye of love: there' | ||
+ | Melodious howsoever, can confound | ||
+ | The heavens and earth in one to such a death | ||
+ | As doth the voice of love: there' | ||
+ | Will mingle kindly with the meadow air, | ||
+ | Till it has panted round, and stolen a share | ||
+ | Of passion from the heart!" | ||
+ | |||
+ | Upon a bough | ||
+ | He leant, wretched. He surely cannot now | ||
+ | Thirst for another love: O impious, | ||
+ | That he can even dream upon it thus!-- | ||
+ | Thought he, "Why am I not as are the dead, | ||
+ | Since to a woe like this I have been led | ||
+ | Through the dark earth, and through the wondrous sea? | ||
+ | Goddess! I love thee not the less: from thee | ||
+ | By Juno's smile I turn not--no, no, no-- | ||
+ | While the great waters are at ebb and flow.-- | ||
+ | I have a triple soul! O fond pretence-- | ||
+ | For both, for both my love is so immense, | ||
+ | I feel my heart is cut in twain for them." | ||
+ | |||
+ | And so he groan' | ||
+ | The lady's heart beat quick, and he could see | ||
+ | Her gentle bosom heave tumultuously. | ||
+ | He sprang from his green covert: there she lay, | ||
+ | Sweet as a muskrose upon new-made hay; | ||
+ | With all her limbs on tremble, and her eyes | ||
+ | Shut softly up alive. To speak he tries. | ||
+ | "Fair damsel, pity me! forgive that I | ||
+ | Thus violate thy bower' | ||
+ | O pardon me, for I am full of grief-- | ||
+ | Grief born of thee, young angel! fairest thief! | ||
+ | Who stolen hast away the wings wherewith | ||
+ | I was to top the heavens. Dear maid, sith | ||
+ | Thou art my executioner, | ||
+ | Loving and hatred, misery and weal, | ||
+ | Will in a few short hours be nothing to me, | ||
+ | And all my story that much passion slew me; | ||
+ | Do smile upon the evening of my days: | ||
+ | And, for my tortur' | ||
+ | Be thou my nurse; and let me understand | ||
+ | How dying I shall kiss that lily hand.-- | ||
+ | Dost weep for me? Then should I be content. | ||
+ | Scowl on, ye fates! until the firmament | ||
+ | Outblackens Erebus, and the full-cavern' | ||
+ | Crumbles into itself. By the cloud girth | ||
+ | Of Jove, those tears have given me a thirst | ||
+ | To meet oblivion." | ||
+ | The maiden sobb'd awhile, and then replied: | ||
+ | "Why must such desolation betide | ||
+ | As that thou speakest of? Are not these green nooks | ||
+ | Empty of all misfortune? Do the brooks | ||
+ | Utter a gorgon voice? Does yonder thrush, | ||
+ | Schooling its half-fledg' | ||
+ | About the dewy forest, whisper tales?-- | ||
+ | Speak not of grief, young stranger, or cold snails | ||
+ | Will slime the rose to night. Though if thou wilt, | ||
+ | Methinks ' | ||
+ | Not to companion thee, and sigh away | ||
+ | The light--the dusk--the dark--till break of day!" | ||
+ | "Dear lady," said Endymion, "' | ||
+ | I love thee! and my days can never last. | ||
+ | That I may pass in patience still speak: | ||
+ | Let me have music dying, and I seek | ||
+ | No more delight--I bid adieu to all. | ||
+ | Didst thou not after other climates call, | ||
+ | And murmur about Indian streams?" | ||
+ | Sitting beneath the midmost forest tree, | ||
+ | For pity sang this roundelay------ | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | "O Sorrow, | ||
+ | Why dost borrow | ||
+ | The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?-- | ||
+ | To give maiden blushes | ||
+ | To the white rose bushes? | ||
+ | Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips? | ||
+ | |||
+ | "O Sorrow, | ||
+ | Why dost borrow | ||
+ | The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye? | ||
+ | To give the glow-worm light? | ||
+ | Or, on a moonless night, | ||
+ | To tinge, on syren shores, the salt sea-spry? | ||
+ | |||
+ | "O Sorrow, | ||
+ | Why dost borrow | ||
+ | The mellow ditties from a mourning tongue?-- | ||
+ | To give at evening pale | ||
+ | Unto the nightingale, | ||
+ | That thou mayst listen the cold dews among? | ||
+ | |||
+ | "O Sorrow, | ||
+ | Why dost borrow | ||
+ | Heart' | ||
+ | A lover would not tread | ||
+ | A cowslip on the head, | ||
+ | Though he should dance from eve till peep of day-- | ||
+ | Nor any drooping flower | ||
+ | Held sacred for thy bower, | ||
+ | Wherever he may sport himself and play. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "To Sorrow | ||
+ | I bade good-morrow, | ||
+ | And thought to leave her far away behind; | ||
+ | But cheerly, cheerly, | ||
+ | She loves me dearly; | ||
+ | She is so constant to me, and so kind: | ||
+ | I would deceive her | ||
+ | And so leave her, | ||
+ | But ah! she is so constant and so kind. | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | I sat a weeping: in the whole world wide | ||
+ | There was no one to ask me why I wept,-- | ||
+ | And so I kept | ||
+ | Brimming the water-lily cups with tears | ||
+ | Cold as my fears. | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | I sat a weeping: what enamour' | ||
+ | Cheated by shadowy wooer from the clouds, | ||
+ | But hides and shrouds | ||
+ | Beneath dark palm trees by a river side? | ||
+ | |||
+ | "And as I sat, over the light blue hills | ||
+ | There came a noise of revellers: the rills | ||
+ | Into the wide stream came of purple hue-- | ||
+ | 'Twas Bacchus and his crew! | ||
+ | The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills | ||
+ | From kissing cymbals made a merry din-- | ||
+ | 'Twas Bacchus and his kin! | ||
+ | Like to a moving vintage down they came, | ||
+ | Crown' | ||
+ | All madly dancing through the pleasant valley, | ||
+ | To scare thee, Melancholy! | ||
+ | O then, O then, thou wast a simple name! | ||
+ | And I forgot thee, as the berried holly | ||
+ | By shepherds is forgotten, when, in June, | ||
+ | Tall chesnuts keep away the sun and moon:-- | ||
+ | I rush'd into the folly! | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | Trifling his ivy-dart, in dancing mood, | ||
+ | With sidelong laughing; | ||
+ | And little rills of crimson wine imbrued | ||
+ | His plump white arms, and shoulders, enough white | ||
+ | For Venus' pearly bite; | ||
+ | And near him rode Silenus on his ass, | ||
+ | Pelted with flowers as he on did pass | ||
+ | Tipsily quaffing. | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | So many, and so many, and such glee? | ||
+ | Why have ye left your bowers desolate, | ||
+ | Your lutes, and gentler fate?-- | ||
+ | ‘We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing? | ||
+ | A conquering! | ||
+ | Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide, | ||
+ | We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide:-- | ||
+ | Come hither, lady fair, and joined be | ||
+ | To our wild minstrelsy!' | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | So many, and so many, and such glee? | ||
+ | Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left | ||
+ | Your nuts in oak-tree cleft?-- | ||
+ | ‘For wine, for wine we left our kernel tree; | ||
+ | For wine we left our heath, and yellow brooms, | ||
+ | And cold mushrooms; | ||
+ | For wine we follow Bacchus through the earth; | ||
+ | Great God of breathless cups and chirping mirth!-- | ||
+ | Come hither, lady fair, and joined be | ||
+ | To our mad minstrelsy!' | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Over wide streams and mountains great we went, | ||
+ | And, save when Bacchus kept his ivy tent, | ||
+ | Onward the tiger and the leopard pants, | ||
+ | With Asian elephants: | ||
+ | Onward these myriads--with song and dance, | ||
+ | With zebras striped, and sleek Arabians' | ||
+ | Web-footed alligators, crocodiles, | ||
+ | Bearing upon their scaly backs, in files, | ||
+ | Plump infant laughers mimicking the coil | ||
+ | Of seamen, and stout galley-rowers' | ||
+ | With toying oars and silken sails they glide, | ||
+ | Nor care for wind and tide. | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | From rear to van they scour about the plains; | ||
+ | A three days' journey in a moment done: | ||
+ | And always, at the rising of the sun, | ||
+ | About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn, | ||
+ | On spleenful unicorn. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown | ||
+ | Before the vine-wreath crown! | ||
+ | I saw parch' | ||
+ | To the silver cymbals' | ||
+ | I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce | ||
+ | Old Tartary the fierce! | ||
+ | The kings of Inde their jewel-sceptres vail, | ||
+ | And from their treasures scatter pearled hail; | ||
+ | Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans, | ||
+ | And all his priesthood moans; | ||
+ | Before young Bacchus' | ||
+ | Into these regions came I following him, | ||
+ | Sick hearted, weary--so I took a whim | ||
+ | To stray away into these forests drear | ||
+ | Alone, without a peer: | ||
+ | And I have told thee all thou mayest hear. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Young stranger! | ||
+ | I've been a ranger | ||
+ | In search of pleasure throughout every clime: | ||
+ | Alas! 'tis not for me! | ||
+ | Bewitch' | ||
+ | To lose in grieving all my maiden prime. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Come then, Sorrow! | ||
+ | Sweetest Sorrow! | ||
+ | Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast: | ||
+ | I thought to leave thee | ||
+ | And deceive thee, | ||
+ | But now of all the world I love thee best. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "There is not one, | ||
+ | No, no, not one | ||
+ | But thee to comfort a poor lonely maid; | ||
+ | Thou art her mother, | ||
+ | And her brother, | ||
+ | Her playmate, and her wooer in the shade." | ||
+ | |||
+ | O what a sigh she gave in finishing, | ||
+ | And look, quite dead to every worldly thing! | ||
+ | Endymion could not speak, but gazed on her; | ||
+ | And listened to the wind that now did stir | ||
+ | About the crisped oaks full drearily, | ||
+ | Yet with as sweet a softness as might be | ||
+ | Remember' | ||
+ | At last he said: "Poor lady, how thus long | ||
+ | Have I been able to endure that voice? | ||
+ | Fair Melody! kind Syren! I've no choice; | ||
+ | I must be thy sad servant evermore: | ||
+ | I cannot choose but kneel here and adore. | ||
+ | Alas, I must not think--by Phoebe, no! | ||
+ | Let me not think, soft Angel! shall it be so? | ||
+ | Say, beautifullest, | ||
+ | O thou could' | ||
+ | Of recollection! make my watchful care | ||
+ | Close up its bloodshot eyes, nor see despair! | ||
+ | Do gently murder half my soul, and I | ||
+ | Shall feel the other half so utterly!-- | ||
+ | I'm giddy at that cheek so fair and smooth; | ||
+ | O let it blush so ever! let it soothe | ||
+ | My madness! let it mantle rosy-warm | ||
+ | With the tinge of love, panting in safe alarm.-- | ||
+ | This cannot be thy hand, and yet it is; | ||
+ | And this is sure thine other softling--this | ||
+ | Thine own fair bosom, and I am so near! | ||
+ | Wilt fall asleep? O let me sip that tear! | ||
+ | And whisper one sweet word that I may know | ||
+ | This is this world--sweet dewy blossom!" | ||
+ | Woe! Woe to that Endymion! Where is he?-- | ||
+ | Even these words went echoing dismally | ||
+ | Through the wide forest--a most fearful tone, | ||
+ | Like one repenting in his latest moan; | ||
+ | And while it died away a shade pass'd by, | ||
+ | As of a thunder cloud. When arrows fly | ||
+ | Through the thick branches, poor ring-doves sleek forth | ||
+ | Their timid necks and tremble; so these both | ||
+ | Leant to each other trembling, and sat so | ||
+ | Waiting for some destruction--when lo, | ||
+ | Foot-feather' | ||
+ | Beyond the tall tree tops; and in less time | ||
+ | Than shoots the slanted hail-storm, down he dropt | ||
+ | Towards the ground; but rested not, nor stopt | ||
+ | One moment from his home: only the sward | ||
+ | He with his wand light touch' | ||
+ | Swifter than sight was gone--even before | ||
+ | The teeming earth a sudden witness bore | ||
+ | Of his swift magic. Diving swans appear | ||
+ | Above the crystal circlings white and clear; | ||
+ | And catch the cheated eye in wild surprise, | ||
+ | How they can dive in sight and unseen rise-- | ||
+ | So from the turf outsprang two steeds jet-black, | ||
+ | Each with large dark blue wings upon his back. | ||
+ | The youth of Caria plac'd the lovely dame | ||
+ | On one, and felt himself in spleen to tame | ||
+ | The other' | ||
+ | High as the eagles. Like two drops of dew | ||
+ | Exhal' | ||
+ | Far from the earth away--unseen, | ||
+ | Among cool clouds and winds, but that the free, | ||
+ | The buoyant life of song can floating be | ||
+ | Above their heads, and follow them untir' | ||
+ | Muse of my native land, am I inspir' | ||
+ | This is the giddy air, and I must spread | ||
+ | Wide pinions to keep here; nor do I dread | ||
+ | Or height, or depth, or width, or any chance | ||
+ | Precipitous: | ||
+ | Those towering horses and their mournful freight. | ||
+ | Could I thus sail, and see, and thus await | ||
+ | Fearless for power of thought, without thine aid?-- | ||
+ | There is a sleepy dusk, an odorous shade | ||
+ | From some approaching wonder, and behold | ||
+ | Those winged steeds, with snorting nostrils bold | ||
+ | Snuff at its faint extreme, and seem to tire, | ||
+ | Dying to embers from their native fire! | ||
+ | |||
+ | There curl'd a purple mist around them; soon, | ||
+ | It seem'd as when around the pale new moon | ||
+ | Sad Zephyr droops the clouds like weeping willow: | ||
+ | 'Twas Sleep slow journeying with head on pillow. | ||
+ | For the first time, since he came nigh dead born | ||
+ | From the old womb of night, his cave forlorn | ||
+ | Had he left more forlorn; for the first time, | ||
+ | He felt aloof the day and morning' | ||
+ | Because into his depth Cimmerian | ||
+ | There came a dream, shewing how a young man, | ||
+ | Ere a lean bat could plump its wintery skin, | ||
+ | Would at high Jove's empyreal footstool win | ||
+ | An immortality, | ||
+ | Jove's daughter, and be reckon' | ||
+ | Now was he slumbering towards heaven' | ||
+ | That he might at the threshold one hour wait | ||
+ | To hear the marriage melodies, and then | ||
+ | Sink downward to his dusky cave again. | ||
+ | His litter of smooth semilucent mist, | ||
+ | Diversely ting'd with rose and amethyst, | ||
+ | Puzzled those eyes that for the centre sought; | ||
+ | And scarcely for one moment could be caught | ||
+ | His sluggish form reposing motionless. | ||
+ | Those two on winged steeds, with all the stress | ||
+ | Of vision search' | ||
+ | Athwart the sallows of a river nook | ||
+ | To catch a glance at silver throated eels,-- | ||
+ | Or from old Skiddaw' | ||
+ | His rugged forehead in a mantle pale, | ||
+ | With an eye-guess towards some pleasant vale | ||
+ | Descry a favourite hamlet faint and far. | ||
+ | |||
+ | These raven horses, though they foster' | ||
+ | Of earth' | ||
+ | Their full-veined ears, nostrils blood wide, and stop; | ||
+ | Upon the spiritless mist have they outspread | ||
+ | Their ample feathers, are in slumber dead,-- | ||
+ | And on those pinions, level in mid air, | ||
+ | Endymion sleepeth and the lady fair. | ||
+ | Slowly they sail, slowly as icy isle | ||
+ | Upon a calm sea drifting: and meanwhile | ||
+ | The mournful wanderer dreams. Behold! he walks | ||
+ | On heaven' | ||
+ | To divine powers: from his hand full fain | ||
+ | Juno's proud birds are pecking pearly grain: | ||
+ | He tries the nerve of Phoebus' | ||
+ | And asketh where the golden apples grow: | ||
+ | Upon his arm he braces Pallas' | ||
+ | And strives in vain to unsettle and wield | ||
+ | A Jovian thunderbolt: | ||
+ | A full-brimm' | ||
+ | And tantalizes long; at last he drinks, | ||
+ | And lost in pleasure at her feet he sinks, | ||
+ | Touching with dazzled lips her starlight hand. | ||
+ | He blows a bugle,--an ethereal band | ||
+ | Are visible above: the Seasons four,-- | ||
+ | Green-kyrtled Spring, flush Summer, golden store | ||
+ | In Autumn' | ||
+ | Join dance with shadowy Hours; while still the blast, | ||
+ | In swells unmitigated, | ||
+ | To sway their floating morris. "Whose is this? | ||
+ | Whose bugle?" | ||
+ | Why is this mortal here? Dost thou not know | ||
+ | Its mistress' | ||
+ | She rises crescented!" | ||
+ | His very goddess: good-bye earth, and sea, | ||
+ | And air, and pains, and care, and suffering; | ||
+ | Good-bye to all but love! Then doth he spring | ||
+ | Towards her, and awakes--and, | ||
+ | Of those same fragrant exhalations bred, | ||
+ | Beheld awake his very dream: the gods | ||
+ | Stood smiling; merry Hebe laughs and nods; | ||
+ | And Phoebe bends towards him crescented. | ||
+ | O state perplexing! On the pinion bed, | ||
+ | Too well awake, he feels the panting side | ||
+ | Of his delicious lady. He who died | ||
+ | For soaring too audacious in the sun, | ||
+ | Where that same treacherous wax began to run, | ||
+ | Felt not more tongue-tied than Endymion. | ||
+ | His heart leapt up as to its rightful throne, | ||
+ | To that fair shadow' | ||
+ | Ah, what perplexity! Ah, well a day! | ||
+ | So fond, so beauteous was his bed-fellow, | ||
+ | He could not help but kiss her: then he grew | ||
+ | Awhile forgetful of all beauty save | ||
+ | Young Phoebe' | ||
+ | Forgiveness: | ||
+ | At the sweet sleeper, | ||
+ | She press' | ||
+ | He could not help but kiss her and adore. | ||
+ | At this the shadow wept, melting away. | ||
+ | The Latmian started up: " | ||
+ | Search my most hidden breast! By truth' | ||
+ | I have no dædale heart: why is it wrung | ||
+ | To desperation? | ||
+ | Upon the bourne of bliss, but misery?" | ||
+ | |||
+ | These words awoke the stranger of dark tresses: | ||
+ | Her dawning love-look rapt Endymion blesses | ||
+ | With ' | ||
+ | "Thou swan of Ganges, let us no more breathe | ||
+ | This murky phantasm! thou contented seem' | ||
+ | Pillow' | ||
+ | What horrors may discomfort thee and me. | ||
+ | Ah, shouldst thou die from my heart-treachery!-- | ||
+ | Yet did she merely weep--her gentle soul | ||
+ | Hath no revenge in it: as it is whole | ||
+ | In tenderness, would I were whole in love! | ||
+ | Can I prize thee, fair maid, all price above, | ||
+ | Even when I feel as true as innocence? | ||
+ | I do, I do.--What is this soul then? Whence | ||
+ | Came it? It does not seem my own, and I | ||
+ | Have no self-passion or identity. | ||
+ | Some fearful end must be: where, where is it? | ||
+ | By Nemesis, I see my spirit flit | ||
+ | Alone about the dark--Forgive me, sweet: | ||
+ | Shall we away?" He rous'd the steeds: they beat | ||
+ | Their wings chivalrous into the clear air, | ||
+ | Leaving old Sleep within his vapoury lair. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The good-night blush of eve was waning slow, | ||
+ | And Vesper, risen star, began to throe | ||
+ | In the dusk heavens silvery, when they | ||
+ | Thus sprang direct towards the Galaxy. | ||
+ | Nor did speed hinder converse soft and strange-- | ||
+ | Eternal oaths and vows they interchange, | ||
+ | In such wise, in such temper, so aloof | ||
+ | Up in the winds, beneath a starry roof, | ||
+ | So witless of their doom, that verily | ||
+ | 'Tis well nigh past man's search their hearts to see; | ||
+ | Whether they wept, or laugh' | ||
+ | Most like with joy gone mad, with sorrow cloy' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Full facing their swift flight, from ebon streak, | ||
+ | The moon put forth a little diamond peak, | ||
+ | No bigger than an unobserved star, | ||
+ | Or tiny point of fairy scymetar; | ||
+ | Bright signal that she only stoop' | ||
+ | Her silver sandals, ere deliciously | ||
+ | She bow'd into the heavens her timid head. | ||
+ | Slowly she rose, as though she would have fled, | ||
+ | While to his lady meek the Carian turn' | ||
+ | To mark if her dark eyes had yet discern' | ||
+ | This beauty in its birth--Despair! despair! | ||
+ | He saw her body fading gaunt and spare | ||
+ | In the cold moonshine. Straight he seiz'd her wrist; | ||
+ | It melted from his grasp: her hand he kiss' | ||
+ | And, horror! kiss'd his own--he was alone. | ||
+ | Her steed a little higher soar' | ||
+ | Dropt hawkwise to the earth. There lies a den, | ||
+ | Beyond the seeming confines of the space | ||
+ | Made for the soul to wander in and trace | ||
+ | Its own existence, of remotest glooms. | ||
+ | Dark regions are around it, where the tombs | ||
+ | Of buried griefs the spirit sees, but scarce | ||
+ | One hour doth linger weeping, for the pierce | ||
+ | Of new-born woe it feels more inly smart: | ||
+ | And in these regions many a venom' | ||
+ | At random flies; they are the proper home | ||
+ | Of every ill: the man is yet to come | ||
+ | Who hath not journeyed in this native hell. | ||
+ | But few have ever felt how calm and well | ||
+ | Sleep may be had in that deep den of all. | ||
+ | There anguish does not sting; nor pleasure pall: | ||
+ | Woe-hurricanes beat ever at the gate, | ||
+ | Yet all is still within and desolate. | ||
+ | Beset with painful gusts, within ye hear | ||
+ | No sound so loud as when on curtain' | ||
+ | The death-watch tick is stifled. Enter none | ||
+ | Who strive therefore: on the sudden it is won. | ||
+ | Just when the sufferer begins to burn, | ||
+ | Then it is free to him; and from an urn, | ||
+ | Still fed by melting ice, he takes a draught-- | ||
+ | Young Semele such richness never quaft | ||
+ | In her maternal longing. Happy gloom! | ||
+ | Dark Paradise! where pale becomes the bloom | ||
+ | Of health by due; where silence dreariest | ||
+ | Is most articulate; where hopes infest; | ||
+ | Where those eyes are the brightest far that keep | ||
+ | Their lids shut longest in a dreamless sleep. | ||
+ | O happy spirit-home! O wondrous soul! | ||
+ | Pregnant with such a den to save the whole | ||
+ | In thine own depth. Hail, gentle Carian! | ||
+ | For, never since thy griefs and woes began, | ||
+ | Hast thou felt so content: a grievous feud | ||
+ | Hath let thee to this Cave of Quietude. | ||
+ | Aye, his lull'd soul was there, although upborne | ||
+ | With dangerous speed: and so he did not mourn | ||
+ | Because he knew not whither he was going. | ||
+ | So happy was he, not the aerial blowing | ||
+ | Of trumpets at clear parley from the east | ||
+ | Could rouse from that fine relish, that high feast. | ||
+ | They stung the feather' | ||
+ | He flapp' | ||
+ | Could lift Endymion' | ||
+ | A skyey mask, a pinion' | ||
+ | And silvery was its passing: voices sweet | ||
+ | Warbling the while as if to lull and greet | ||
+ | The wanderer in his path. Thus warbled they, | ||
+ | While past the vision went in bright array. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Who, who from Dian's feast would be away? | ||
+ | For all the golden bowers of the day | ||
+ | Are empty left? Who, who away would be | ||
+ | From Cynthia' | ||
+ | Not Hesperus: lo! upon his silver wings | ||
+ | He leans away for highest heaven and sings, | ||
+ | Snapping his lucid fingers merrily!-- | ||
+ | Ah, Zephyrus! art here, and Flora too! | ||
+ | Ye tender bibbers of the rain and dew, | ||
+ | Young playmates of the rose and daffodil, | ||
+ | Be careful, ere ye enter in, to fill | ||
+ | Your baskets high | ||
+ | With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines, | ||
+ | Savory, latter-mint, | ||
+ | Cool parsley, basil sweet, and sunny thyme; | ||
+ | Yea, every flower and leaf of every clime, | ||
+ | All gather' | ||
+ | Away! fly, fly!-- | ||
+ | Crystalline brother of the belt of heaven, | ||
+ | Aquarius! to whom king Jove has given | ||
+ | Two liquid pulse streams 'stead of feather' | ||
+ | Two fan-like fountains, | ||
+ | For Dian play: | ||
+ | Dissolve the frozen purity of air; | ||
+ | Let thy white shoulders silvery and bare | ||
+ | Shew cold through watery pinions; make more bright | ||
+ | The Star-Queen' | ||
+ | Haste, haste away!-- | ||
+ | Castor has tamed the planet Lion, see! | ||
+ | And of the Bear has Pollux mastery: | ||
+ | A third is in the race! who is the third, | ||
+ | Speeding away swift as the eagle bird? | ||
+ | The ramping Centaur! | ||
+ | The Lion's mane's on end: the Bear how fierce! | ||
+ | The Centaur' | ||
+ | Some enemy: far forth his bow is bent | ||
+ | Into the blue of heaven. He'll be shent, | ||
+ | Pale unrelentor, | ||
+ | When he shall hear the wedding lutes a playing.-- | ||
+ | Andromeda! sweet woman! why delaying | ||
+ | So timidly among the stars: come hither! | ||
+ | Join this bright throng, and nimbly follow whither | ||
+ | They all are going. | ||
+ | Danae' | ||
+ | Has wept for thee, calling to Jove aloud. | ||
+ | Thee, gentle lady, did he disenthral: | ||
+ | Ye shall for ever live and love, for all | ||
+ | Thy tears are flowing.-- | ||
+ | By Daphne' | ||
+ | |||
+ | More | ||
+ | Endymion heard not: down his steed him bore, | ||
+ | Prone to the green head of a misty hill. | ||
+ | |||
+ | His first touch of the earth went nigh to kill. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Through dangerous winds, had but my footsteps worn | ||
+ | A path in hell, for ever would I bless | ||
+ | Horrors which nourish an uneasiness | ||
+ | For my own sullen conquering: to him | ||
+ | Who lives beyond earth' | ||
+ | Sorrow is but a shadow: now I see | ||
+ | The grass; I feel the solid ground--Ah, me! | ||
+ | It is thy voice--divinest! Where? | ||
+ | Left thee so quiet on this bed of dew? | ||
+ | Behold upon this happy earth we are; | ||
+ | Let us ay love each other; let us fare | ||
+ | On forest-fruits, | ||
+ | Among the abodes of mortals here below, | ||
+ | Or be by phantoms duped. O destiny! | ||
+ | Into a labyrinth now my soul would fly, | ||
+ | But with thy beauty will I deaden it. | ||
+ | Where didst thou melt too? By thee will I sit | ||
+ | For ever: let our fate stop here--a kid | ||
+ | I on this spot will offer: Pan will bid | ||
+ | Us live in peace, in love and peace among | ||
+ | His forest wildernesses. I have clung | ||
+ | To nothing, lov'd a nothing, nothing seen | ||
+ | Or felt but a great dream! O I have been | ||
+ | Presumptuous against love, against the sky, | ||
+ | Against all elements, against the tie | ||
+ | Of mortals each to each, against the blooms | ||
+ | Of flowers, rush of rivers, and the tombs | ||
+ | Of heroes gone! Against his proper glory | ||
+ | Has my own soul conspired: so my story | ||
+ | Will I to children utter, and repent. | ||
+ | There never liv'd a mortal man, who bent | ||
+ | His appetite beyond his natural sphere, | ||
+ | But starv' | ||
+ | Here will I kneel, for thou redeemed hast | ||
+ | My life from too thin breathing: gone and past | ||
+ | Are cloudy phantasms. Caverns lone, farewel! | ||
+ | And air of visions, and the monstrous swell | ||
+ | Of visionary seas! No, never more | ||
+ | Shall airy voices cheat me to the shore | ||
+ | Of tangled wonder, breathless and aghast. | ||
+ | Adieu, my daintiest Dream! although so vast | ||
+ | My love is still for thee. The hour may come | ||
+ | When we shall meet in pure elysium. | ||
+ | On earth I may not love thee; and therefore | ||
+ | Doves will I offer up, and sweetest store | ||
+ | All through the teeming year: so thou wilt shine | ||
+ | On me, and on this damsel fair of mine, | ||
+ | And bless our simple lives. My Indian bliss! | ||
+ | My river-lily bud! one human kiss! | ||
+ | One sigh of real breath--one gentle squeeze, | ||
+ | Warm as a dove's nest among summer trees, | ||
+ | And warm with dew at ooze from living blood! | ||
+ | Whither didst melt? Ah, what of that!--all good | ||
+ | We'll talk about--no more of dreaming.--Now, | ||
+ | Where shall our dwelling be? Under the brow | ||
+ | Of some steep mossy hill, where ivy dun | ||
+ | Would hide us up, although spring leaves were none; | ||
+ | And where dark yew trees, as we rustle through, | ||
+ | Will drop their scarlet berry cups of dew? | ||
+ | O thou wouldst joy to live in such a place; | ||
+ | Dusk for our loves, yet light enough to grace | ||
+ | Those gentle limbs on mossy bed reclin' | ||
+ | For by one step the blue sky shouldst thou find, | ||
+ | And by another, in deep dell below, | ||
+ | See, through the trees, a little river go | ||
+ | All in its mid-day gold and glimmering. | ||
+ | Honey from out the gnarled hive I'll bring, | ||
+ | And apples, wan with sweetness, gather thee,-- | ||
+ | Cresses that grow where no man may them see, | ||
+ | And sorrel untorn by the dew-claw' | ||
+ | Pipes will I fashion of the syrinx flag, | ||
+ | That thou mayst always know whither I roam, | ||
+ | When it shall please thee in our quiet home | ||
+ | To listen and think of love. Still let me speak; | ||
+ | Still let me dive into the joy I seek,-- | ||
+ | For yet the past doth prison me. The rill, | ||
+ | Thou haply mayst delight in, will I fill | ||
+ | With fairy fishes from the mountain tarn, | ||
+ | And thou shalt feed them from the squirrel' | ||
+ | Its bottom will I strew with amber shells, | ||
+ | And pebbles blue from deep enchanted wells. | ||
+ | Its sides I'll plant with dew-sweet eglantine, | ||
+ | And honeysuckles full of clear bee-wine. | ||
+ | I will entice this crystal rill to trace | ||
+ | Love's silver name upon the meadow' | ||
+ | I'll kneel to Vesta, for a flame of fire; | ||
+ | And to god Phoebus, for a golden lyre; | ||
+ | To Empress Dian, for a hunting spear; | ||
+ | To Vesper, for a taper silver-clear, | ||
+ | That I may see thy beauty through the night; | ||
+ | To Flora, and a nightingale shall light | ||
+ | Tame on thy finger; to the River-gods, | ||
+ | And they shall bring thee taper fishing-rods | ||
+ | Of gold, and lines of Naiads' | ||
+ | Heaven shield thee for thine utter loveliness! | ||
+ | Thy mossy footstool shall the altar be | ||
+ | 'Fore which I'll bend, bending, dear love, to thee: | ||
+ | Those lips shall be my Delphos, and shall speak | ||
+ | Laws to my footsteps, colour to my cheek, | ||
+ | Trembling or stedfastness to this same voice, | ||
+ | And of three sweetest pleasurings the choice: | ||
+ | And that affectionate light, those diamond things, | ||
+ | Those eyes, those passions, those supreme pearl springs, | ||
+ | Shall be my grief, or twinkle me to pleasure. | ||
+ | Say, is not bliss within our perfect seisure? | ||
+ | O that I could not doubt?" | ||
+ | |||
+ | The mountaineer | ||
+ | Thus strove by fancies vain and crude to clear | ||
+ | His briar' | ||
+ | It gave bright gladness to his lady's eye, | ||
+ | And yet the tears she wept were tears of sorrow; | ||
+ | Answering thus, just as the golden morrow | ||
+ | Beam'd upward from the vallies of the east: | ||
+ | "O that the flutter of this heart had ceas' | ||
+ | Or the sweet name of love had pass'd away. | ||
+ | Young feather' | ||
+ | Wilt thou devote this body to the earth: | ||
+ | And I do think that at my very birth | ||
+ | I lisp'd thy blooming titles inwardly; | ||
+ | For at the first, first dawn and thought of thee, | ||
+ | With uplift hands I blest the stars of heaven. | ||
+ | Art thou not cruel? Ever have I striven | ||
+ | To think thee kind, but ah, it will not do! | ||
+ | When yet a child, I heard that kisses drew | ||
+ | Favour from thee, and so I kisses gave | ||
+ | To the void air, bidding them find out love: | ||
+ | But when I came to feel how far above | ||
+ | All fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood, | ||
+ | All earthly pleasure, all imagin' | ||
+ | Was the warm tremble of a devout kiss,-- | ||
+ | Even then, that moment, at the thought of this, | ||
+ | Fainting I fell into a bed of flowers, | ||
+ | And languish' | ||
+ | Am I not cruelly wrong' | ||
+ | Me, dear Endymion, were I to weave | ||
+ | With my own fancies garlands of sweet life, | ||
+ | Thou shouldst be one of all. Ah, bitter strife! | ||
+ | I may not be thy love: I am forbidden-- | ||
+ | Indeed I am--thwarted, | ||
+ | By things I trembled at, and gorgon wrath. | ||
+ | Twice hast thou ask'd whither I went: henceforth | ||
+ | Ask me no more! I may not utter it, | ||
+ | Nor may I be thy love. We might commit | ||
+ | Ourselves at once to vengeance; we might die; | ||
+ | We might embrace and die: voluptuous thought! | ||
+ | Enlarge not to my hunger, or I'm caught | ||
+ | In trammels of perverse deliciousness. | ||
+ | No, no, that shall not be: thee will I bless, | ||
+ | And bid a long adieu." | ||
+ | |||
+ | The Carian | ||
+ | No word return' | ||
+ | Into the vallies green together went. | ||
+ | Far wandering, they were perforce content | ||
+ | To sit beneath a fair lone beechen tree; | ||
+ | Nor at each other gaz'd, but heavily | ||
+ | Por'd on its hazle cirque of shedded leaves. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Endymion! unhappy! it nigh grieves | ||
+ | Me to behold thee thus in last extreme: | ||
+ | Ensky' | ||
+ | Truth the best music in a first-born song. | ||
+ | Thy lute-voic' | ||
+ | And thou shalt aid--hast thou not aided me? | ||
+ | Yes, moonlight Emperor! felicity | ||
+ | Has been thy meed for many thousand years; | ||
+ | Yet often have I, on the brink of tears, | ||
+ | Mourn' | ||
+ | Forgetting the old tale. | ||
+ | |||
+ | He did not stir | ||
+ | His eyes from the dead leaves, or one small pulse | ||
+ | Of joy he might have felt. The spirit culls | ||
+ | Unfaded amaranth, when wild it strays | ||
+ | Through the old garden-ground of boyish days. | ||
+ | A little onward ran the very stream | ||
+ | By which he took his first soft poppy dream; | ||
+ | And on the very bark ' | ||
+ | A crescent he had carv' | ||
+ | His skill in little stars. The teeming tree | ||
+ | Had swollen and green' | ||
+ | But not ta'en out. Why, there was not a slope | ||
+ | Up which he had not fear'd the antelope; | ||
+ | And not a tree, beneath whose rooty shade | ||
+ | He had not with his tamed leopards play' | ||
+ | Nor could an arrow light, or javelin, | ||
+ | Fly in the air where his had never been-- | ||
+ | And yet he knew it not. | ||
+ | |||
+ | O treachery! | ||
+ | Why does his lady smile, pleasing her eye | ||
+ | With all his sorrowing? He sees her not. | ||
+ | But who so stares on him? His sister sure! | ||
+ | Peona of the woods!--Can she endure-- | ||
+ | Impossible--how dearly they embrace! | ||
+ | His lady smiles; delight is in her face; | ||
+ | It is no treachery. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Dear brother mine! | ||
+ | Endymion, weep not so! Why shouldst thou pine | ||
+ | When all great Latmos so exalt wilt be? | ||
+ | Thank the great gods, and look not bitterly; | ||
+ | And speak not one pale word, and sigh no more. | ||
+ | Sure I will not believe thou hast such store | ||
+ | Of grief, to last thee to my kiss again. | ||
+ | Thou surely canst not bear a mind in pain, | ||
+ | Come hand in hand with one so beautiful. | ||
+ | Be happy both of you! for I will pull | ||
+ | The flowers of autumn for your coronals. | ||
+ | Pan's holy priest for young Endymion calls; | ||
+ | And when he is restor' | ||
+ | Shalt be our queen. Now, is it not a shame | ||
+ | To see ye thus,--not very, very sad? | ||
+ | Perhaps ye are too happy to be glad: | ||
+ | O feel as if it were a common day; | ||
+ | Free-voic' | ||
+ | No tongue shall ask, whence come ye? but ye shall | ||
+ | Be gods of your own rest imperial. | ||
+ | Not even I, for one whole month, will pry | ||
+ | Into the hours that have pass'd us by, | ||
+ | Since in my arbour I did sing to thee. | ||
+ | O Hermes! on this very night will be | ||
+ | A hymning up to Cynthia, queen of light; | ||
+ | For the soothsayers old saw yesternight | ||
+ | Good visions in the air, | ||
+ | As say these sages, health perpetual | ||
+ | To shepherds and their flocks; and furthermore, | ||
+ | In Dian's face they read the gentle lore: | ||
+ | Therefore for her these vesper-carols are. | ||
+ | Our friends will all be there from nigh and far. | ||
+ | Many upon thy death have ditties made; | ||
+ | And many, even now, their foreheads shade | ||
+ | With cypress, on a day of sacrifice. | ||
+ | New singing for our maids shalt thou devise, | ||
+ | And pluck the sorrow from our huntsmen' | ||
+ | Tell me, my lady-queen, how to espouse | ||
+ | This wayward brother to his rightful joys! | ||
+ | His eyes are on thee bent, as thou didst poise | ||
+ | His fate most goddess-like. Help me, I pray, | ||
+ | To lure--Endymion, | ||
+ | What ails thee?" He could bear no more, and so | ||
+ | Bent his soul fiercely like a spiritual bow, | ||
+ | And twang' | ||
+ | "I would have thee my only friend, sweet maid! | ||
+ | My only visitor! not ignorant though, | ||
+ | That those deceptions which for pleasure go | ||
+ | 'Mong men, are pleasures real as real may be: | ||
+ | But there are higher ones I may not see, | ||
+ | If impiously an earthly realm I take. | ||
+ | Since I saw thee, I have been wide awake | ||
+ | Night after night, and day by day, until | ||
+ | Of the empyrean I have drunk my fill. | ||
+ | Let it content thee, Sister, seeing me | ||
+ | More happy than betides mortality. | ||
+ | A hermit young, I'll live in mossy cave, | ||
+ | Where thou alone shalt come to me, and lave | ||
+ | Thy spirit in the wonders I shall tell. | ||
+ | Through me the shepherd realm shall prosper well; | ||
+ | For to thy tongue will I all health confide. | ||
+ | And, for my sake, let this young maid abide | ||
+ | With thee as a dear sister. Thou alone, | ||
+ | Peona, mayst return to me. I own | ||
+ | This may sound strangely: but when, dearest girl, | ||
+ | Thou seest it for my happiness, no pearl | ||
+ | Will trespass down those cheeks. Companion fair! | ||
+ | Wilt be content to dwell with her, to share | ||
+ | This sister' | ||
+ | And bent by circumstance, | ||
+ | In self-commitment, | ||
+ | "Aye, but a buzzing by my ears has flown, | ||
+ | Of jubilee to Dian: | ||
+ | Well then, I see there is no little bird, | ||
+ | Tender soever, but is Jove's own care. | ||
+ | Long have I sought for rest, and, unaware, | ||
+ | Behold I find it! so exalted too! | ||
+ | So after my own heart! I knew, I knew | ||
+ | There was a place untenanted in it: | ||
+ | In that same void white Chastity shall sit, | ||
+ | And monitor me nightly to lone slumber. | ||
+ | With sanest lips I vow me to the number | ||
+ | Of Dian's sisterhood; and, kind lady, | ||
+ | With thy good help, this very night shall see | ||
+ | My future days to her fane consecrate." | ||
+ | |||
+ | As feels a dreamer what doth most create | ||
+ | His own particular fright, so these three felt: | ||
+ | Or like one who, in after ages, knelt | ||
+ | To Lucifer or Baal, when he'd pine | ||
+ | After a little sleep: or when in mine | ||
+ | Far under-ground, | ||
+ | Who know him not. Each diligently bends | ||
+ | Towards common thoughts and things for very fear; | ||
+ | Striving their ghastly malady to cheer, | ||
+ | By thinking it a thing of yes and no, | ||
+ | That housewives talk of. But the spirit-blow | ||
+ | Was struck, and all were dreamers. At the last | ||
+ | Endymion said: "Are not our fates all cast? | ||
+ | Why stand we here? Adieu, ye tender pair! | ||
+ | Adieu!" | ||
+ | Walk'd dizzily away. Pained and hot | ||
+ | His eyes went after them, until they got | ||
+ | Near to a cypress grove, whose deadly maw, | ||
+ | In one swift moment, would what then he saw | ||
+ | Engulph for ever. " | ||
+ | Turn, damsels! hist! one word I have to say. | ||
+ | Sweet Indian, I would see thee once again. | ||
+ | It is a thing I dote on: so I'd fain, | ||
+ | Peona, ye should hand in hand repair | ||
+ | Into those holy groves, that silent are | ||
+ | Behind great Dian's temple. I'll be yon, | ||
+ | At vesper' | ||
+ | But once, once, once again--" | ||
+ | His hands against his face, and then did rest | ||
+ | His head upon a mossy hillock green, | ||
+ | And so remain' | ||
+ | All the long day; save when he scantly lifted | ||
+ | His eyes abroad, to see how shadows shifted | ||
+ | With the slow move of time, | ||
+ | Until the poplar tops, in journey dreary, | ||
+ | Had reach' | ||
+ | And, slowly as that very river flows, | ||
+ | Walk'd towards the temple grove with this lament: | ||
+ | "Why such a golden eve? The breeze is sent | ||
+ | Careful and soft, that not a leaf may fall | ||
+ | Before the serene father of them all | ||
+ | Bows down his summer head below the west. | ||
+ | Now am I of breath, speech, and speed possest, | ||
+ | But at the setting I must bid adieu | ||
+ | To her for the last time. Night will strew | ||
+ | On the damp grass myriads of lingering leaves, | ||
+ | And with them shall I die; nor much it grieves | ||
+ | To die, when summer dies on the cold sward. | ||
+ | Why, I have been a butterfly, a lord | ||
+ | Of flowers, garlands, love-knots, silly posies, | ||
+ | Groves, meadows, melodies, and arbour roses; | ||
+ | My kingdom' | ||
+ | That I should die with it: so in all this | ||
+ | We miscal grief, bale, sorrow, heartbreak, woe, | ||
+ | What is there to plain of? By Titan' | ||
+ | I am but rightly serv' | ||
+ | Tripp' | ||
+ | Laughing at the clear stream and setting sun, | ||
+ | As though they jests had been: nor had he done | ||
+ | His laugh at nature' | ||
+ | Until that grove appear' | ||
+ | And then his tongue with sober seemlihed | ||
+ | Gave utterance as he entered: " | ||
+ | "King of the butterflies; | ||
+ | And by old Rhadamanthus' | ||
+ | This dusk religion, pomp of solitude, | ||
+ | And the Promethean clay by thief endued, | ||
+ | By old Saturnus' | ||
+ | Shook with eternal palsy, I did wed | ||
+ | Myself to things of light from infancy; | ||
+ | And thus to be cast out, thus lorn to die, | ||
+ | Is sure enough to make a mortal man | ||
+ | Grow impious." | ||
+ | On things for which no wording can be found; | ||
+ | Deeper and deeper sinking, until drown' | ||
+ | Beyond the reach of music: for the choir | ||
+ | Of Cynthia he heard not, though rough briar | ||
+ | Nor muffling thicket interpos' | ||
+ | The vesper hymn, far swollen, soft and full, | ||
+ | Through the dark pillars of those sylvan aisles. | ||
+ | He saw not the two maidens, nor their smiles, | ||
+ | Wan as primroses gather' | ||
+ | By chilly finger' | ||
+ | Endymion!" | ||
+ | What wouldst thou ere we all are laid on bier?" | ||
+ | Then he embrac' | ||
+ | Press' | ||
+ | If it were heaven' | ||
+ | At which that dark-eyed stranger stood elate | ||
+ | And said, in a new voice, but sweet as love, | ||
+ | To Endymion' | ||
+ | And so thou shalt! and by the lily truth | ||
+ | Of my own breast thou shalt, beloved youth!" | ||
+ | And as she spake, into her face there came | ||
+ | Light, as reflected from a silver flame: | ||
+ | Her long black hair swell' | ||
+ | Full golden; in her eyes a brighter day | ||
+ | Dawn'd blue and full of love. Aye, he beheld | ||
+ | Phoebe, his passion! joyous she upheld | ||
+ | Her lucid bow, continuing thus; " | ||
+ | Has our delaying been; but foolish fear | ||
+ | Withheld me first; and then decrees of fate; | ||
+ | And then 'twas fit that from this mortal state | ||
+ | Thou shouldst, my love, by some unlook' | ||
+ | Be spiritualiz' | ||
+ | These forests, and to thee they safe shall be | ||
+ | As was thy cradle; hither shalt thou flee | ||
+ | To meet us many a time." Next Cynthia bright | ||
+ | Peona kiss' | ||
+ | Her brother kiss'd her too, and knelt adown | ||
+ | Before his goddess, in a blissful swoon. | ||
+ | She gave her fair hands to him, and behold, | ||
+ | Before three swiftest kisses he had told, | ||
+ | They vanish' | ||
+ | Home through the gloomy wood in wonderment. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 42. A Dream, After Reading Dante' | ||
+ | As Hermes once took to his feathers light, | ||
+ | When lulled Argus, baffled, swooned and slept, | ||
+ | So on a Delphic reed, my idle spright | ||
+ | So played, so charmed, so conquered, so bereft | ||
+ | The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes; | ||
+ | And seeing it asleep, so fled away, | ||
+ | Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies, | ||
+ | Nor unto Tempe, where Jove grieved a day; | ||
+ | But to that second circle of sad Hell, | ||
+ | Where in the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw | ||
+ | Of rain and hail-stones, | ||
+ | Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw, | ||
+ | Pale were the lips I kissed, and fair the form | ||
+ | I floated with, about that melancholy storm. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 43. Meg Merrilies | < | ||
+ | Old Meg she was a Gipsy, | ||
+ | And liv'd upon the Moors: | ||
+ | Her bed it was the brown heath turf, | ||
+ | And her house was out of doors. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Her apples were swart blackberries, | ||
+ | Her currants pods o' broom; | ||
+ | Her wine was dew of the wild white rose, | ||
+ | Her book a churchyard tomb. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Her Brothers were the craggy hills, | ||
+ | Her Sisters larchen trees-- | ||
+ | Alone with her great family | ||
+ | She liv'd as she did please. | ||
+ | |||
+ | No breakfast had she many a morn, | ||
+ | No dinner many a noon, | ||
+ | And 'stead of supper she would stare | ||
+ | Full hard against the Moon. | ||
+ | |||
+ | But every morn of woodbine fresh | ||
+ | She made her garlanding, | ||
+ | And every night the dark glen Yew | ||
+ | She wove, and she would sing. | ||
+ | |||
+ | And with her fingers old and brown | ||
+ | She plaited Mats o' Rushes, | ||
+ | And gave them to the Cottagers | ||
+ | She met among the Bushes. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen | ||
+ | And tall as Amazon: | ||
+ | An old red blanket cloak she wore; | ||
+ | A chip hat had she on. | ||
+ | God rest her aged bones somewhere-- | ||
+ | She died full long agone! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 44. Think Of It Not, Sweet One | < | ||
+ | Think not of it, sweet one, so;--- | ||
+ | Give it not a tear; | ||
+ | Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go | ||
+ | Any---anywhere. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Do not lool so sad, sweet one,--- | ||
+ | Sad and fadingly; | ||
+ | Shed one drop then,---it is gone--- | ||
+ | O 'twas born to die! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Still so pale? then, dearest, weep; | ||
+ | Weep, I'll count the tears, | ||
+ | And each one shall be a bliss | ||
+ | For thee in after years. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Brighter has it left thine eyes | ||
+ | Than a sunny rill; | ||
+ | And thy whispering melodies | ||
+ | Are tenderer still. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Yet---as all things mourn awhile | ||
+ | At fleeting blisses, | ||
+ | E'en let us too! but be our dirge | ||
+ | A dirge of kisses. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 45. Ode To Autumn | < | ||
+ | Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, | ||
+ | Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; | ||
+ | Conspiring with him how to load and bless | ||
+ | With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; | ||
+ | To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees, | ||
+ | And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; | ||
+ | To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells | ||
+ | With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, | ||
+ | And still more, later flowers for the bees, | ||
+ | Until they think warm days will never cease, | ||
+ | For Summer has o' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? | ||
+ | Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find | ||
+ | Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, | ||
+ | Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; | ||
+ | Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep, | ||
+ | Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook | ||
+ | Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers; | ||
+ | And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep | ||
+ | Steady thy laden head across a brook; | ||
+ | Or by a cider-press, | ||
+ | Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? | ||
+ | Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--- | ||
+ | While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, | ||
+ | And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; | ||
+ | Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn | ||
+ | Among the river sallows, borne aloft | ||
+ | Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; | ||
+ | And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; | ||
+ | Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft | ||
+ | The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, | ||
+ | And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 46. To The Nile | < | ||
+ | Son of the old Moon-mountains African! | ||
+ | Chief of the Pyramid and Crocodile! | ||
+ | We call thee fruitful, and that very while | ||
+ | A desert fills our seeing' | ||
+ | Nurse of swart nations since the world began, | ||
+ | Art thou so fruitful? or dost thou beguile | ||
+ | Such men to honour thee, who, worn with toil, | ||
+ | Rest for a space 'twixt Cairo and Decan? | ||
+ | O may dark fancies err! They surely do; | ||
+ | 'Tis ignorance that makes a barren waste | ||
+ | Of all beyond itself. Thou dost bedew | ||
+ | Green rushes like our rivers, and dost taste | ||
+ | The pleasant sunrise. Green isles hast thou too, | ||
+ | And to the sea as happily dost haste. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 47. Endymion: Book III | < | ||
+ | There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men | ||
+ | With most prevailing tinsel: who unpen | ||
+ | Their baaing vanities, to browse away | ||
+ | The comfortable green and juicy hay | ||
+ | From human pastures; or, O torturing fact! | ||
+ | Who, through an idiot blink, will see unpack' | ||
+ | Fire-branded foxes to sear up and singe | ||
+ | Our gold and ripe-ear' | ||
+ | Of sanctuary splendour, not a sight | ||
+ | Able to face an owl's, they still are dight | ||
+ | By the blear-eyed nations in empurpled vests, | ||
+ | And crowns, and turbans. With unladen breasts, | ||
+ | Save of blown self-applause, | ||
+ | To their spirit' | ||
+ | Their tiptop nothings, their dull skies, their thrones-- | ||
+ | Amid the fierce intoxicating tones | ||
+ | Of trumpets, shoutings, and belabour' | ||
+ | And sudden cannon. Ah! how all this hums, | ||
+ | In wakeful ears, like uproar past and gone-- | ||
+ | Like thunder clouds that spake to Babylon, | ||
+ | And set those old Chaldeans to their tasks.-- | ||
+ | Are then regalities all gilded masks? | ||
+ | No, there are throned seats unscalable | ||
+ | But by a patient wing, a constant spell, | ||
+ | Or by ethereal things that, unconfin' | ||
+ | Can make a ladder of the eternal wind, | ||
+ | And poise about in cloudy thunder-tents | ||
+ | To watch the abysm-birth of elements. | ||
+ | Aye, 'bove the withering of old-lipp' | ||
+ | A thousand Powers keep religious state, | ||
+ | In water, fiery realm, and airy bourne; | ||
+ | And, silent as a consecrated urn, | ||
+ | Hold sphery sessions for a season due. | ||
+ | Yet few of these far majesties, ah, few! | ||
+ | Have bared their operations to this globe-- | ||
+ | Few, who with gorgeous pageantry enrobe | ||
+ | Our piece of heaven--whose benevolence | ||
+ | Shakes hand with our own Ceres; every sense | ||
+ | Filling with spiritual sweets to plenitude, | ||
+ | As bees gorge full their cells. And, by the feud | ||
+ | 'Twixt Nothing and Creation, I here swear, | ||
+ | Eterne Apollo! that thy Sister fair | ||
+ | Is of all these the gentlier-mightiest. | ||
+ | When thy gold breath is misting in the west, | ||
+ | She unobserved steals unto her throne, | ||
+ | And there she sits most meek and most alone; | ||
+ | As if she had not pomp subservient; | ||
+ | As if thine eye, high Poet! was not bent | ||
+ | Towards her with the Muses in thine heart; | ||
+ | As if the ministring stars kept not apart, | ||
+ | Waiting for silver-footed messages. | ||
+ | O Moon! the oldest shades 'mong oldest trees | ||
+ | Feel palpitations when thou lookest in: | ||
+ | O Moon! old boughs lisp forth a holier din | ||
+ | The while they feel thine airy fellowship. | ||
+ | Thou dost bless every where, with silver lip | ||
+ | Kissing dead things to life. The sleeping kine, | ||
+ | Couched in thy brightness, dream of fields divine: | ||
+ | Innumerable mountains rise, and rise, | ||
+ | Ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes; | ||
+ | And yet thy benediction passeth not | ||
+ | One obscure hiding-place, | ||
+ | Where pleasure may be sent: the nested wren | ||
+ | Has thy fair face within its tranquil ken, | ||
+ | And from beneath a sheltering ivy leaf | ||
+ | Takes glimpses of thee; thou art a relief | ||
+ | To the poor patient oyster, where it sleeps | ||
+ | Within its pearly house.--The mighty deeps, | ||
+ | The monstrous sea is thine--the myriad sea! | ||
+ | O Moon! far-spooming Ocean bows to thee, | ||
+ | And Tellus feels his forehead' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Cynthia! where art thou now? What far abode | ||
+ | Of green or silvery bower doth enshrine | ||
+ | Such utmost beauty? Alas, thou dost pine | ||
+ | For one as sorrowful: thy cheek is pale | ||
+ | For one whose cheek is pale: thou dost bewail | ||
+ | His tears, who weeps for thee. Where dost thou sigh? | ||
+ | Ah! surely that light peeps from Vesper' | ||
+ | Or what a thing is love! 'Tis She, but lo! | ||
+ | How chang' | ||
+ | She dies at the thinnest cloud; her loveliness | ||
+ | Is wan on Neptune' | ||
+ | Of love-spangles, | ||
+ | Dancing upon the waves, as if to please | ||
+ | The curly foam with amorous influence. | ||
+ | O, not so idle: for down-glancing thence | ||
+ | She fathoms eddies, and runs wild about | ||
+ | O' | ||
+ | The thorny sharks from hiding-holes, | ||
+ | Their savage eyes with unaccustomed lightning. | ||
+ | Where will the splendor be content to reach? | ||
+ | O love! how potent hast thou been to teach | ||
+ | Strange journeyings! Wherever beauty dwells, | ||
+ | In gulf or aerie, mountains or deep dells, | ||
+ | In light, in gloom, in star or blazing sun, | ||
+ | Thou pointest out the way, and straight 'tis won. | ||
+ | Amid his toil thou gav'st Leander breath; | ||
+ | Thou leddest Orpheus through the gleams of death; | ||
+ | Thou madest Pluto bear thin element; | ||
+ | And now, O winged Chieftain! thou hast sent | ||
+ | A moon-beam to the deep, deep water-world, | ||
+ | To find Endymion. | ||
+ | |||
+ | On gold sand impearl' | ||
+ | With lily shells, and pebbles milky white, | ||
+ | Poor Cynthia greeted him, and sooth' | ||
+ | Against his pallid face: he felt the charm | ||
+ | To breathlessness, | ||
+ | Of his heart' | ||
+ | His wandering steps, and half-entranced laid | ||
+ | His head upon a tuft of straggling weeds, | ||
+ | To taste the gentle moon, and freshening beads, | ||
+ | Lashed from the crystal roof by fishes' | ||
+ | And so he kept, until the rosy veils | ||
+ | Mantling the east, by Aurora' | ||
+ | Were lifted from the water' | ||
+ | Into sweet air; and sober' | ||
+ | Meekly through billows: | ||
+ | Left sudden by a dallying breath of air, | ||
+ | He rose in silence, and once more 'gan fare | ||
+ | Along his fated way. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Far had he roam' | ||
+ | With nothing save the hollow vast, that foam' | ||
+ | Above, around, and at his feet; save things | ||
+ | More dead than Morpheus' | ||
+ | Old rusted anchors, helmets, breast-plates large | ||
+ | Of gone sea-warriors; | ||
+ | Rudders that for a hundred years had lost | ||
+ | The sway of human hand; gold vase emboss' | ||
+ | With long-forgotten story, and wherein | ||
+ | No reveller had ever dipp'd a chin | ||
+ | But those of Saturn' | ||
+ | Writ in the tongue of heaven, by those souls | ||
+ | Who first were on the earth; and sculptures rude | ||
+ | In ponderous stone, developing the mood | ||
+ | Of ancient Nox;--then skeletons of man, | ||
+ | Of beast, behemoth, and leviathan, | ||
+ | And elephant, and eagle, and huge jaw | ||
+ | Of nameless monster. A cold leaden awe | ||
+ | These secrets struck into him; and unless | ||
+ | Dian had chaced away that heaviness, | ||
+ | He might have died: but now, with cheered feel, | ||
+ | He onward kept; wooing these thoughts to steal | ||
+ | About the labyrinth in his soul of love. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "What is there in thee, Moon! that thou shouldst move | ||
+ | My heart so potently? When yet a child | ||
+ | I oft have dried my tears when thou hast smil' | ||
+ | Thou seem' | ||
+ | From eve to morn across the firmament. | ||
+ | No apples would I gather from the tree, | ||
+ | Till thou hadst cool'd their cheeks deliciously: | ||
+ | No tumbling water ever spake romance, | ||
+ | But when my eyes with thine thereon could dance: | ||
+ | No woods were green enough, no bower divine, | ||
+ | Until thou liftedst up thine eyelids fine: | ||
+ | In sowing time ne'er would I dibble take, | ||
+ | Or drop a seed, till thou wast wide awake; | ||
+ | And, in the summer tide of blossoming, | ||
+ | No one but thee hath heard me blithly sing | ||
+ | And mesh my dewy flowers all the night. | ||
+ | No melody was like a passing spright | ||
+ | If it went not to solemnize thy reign. | ||
+ | Yes, in my boyhood, every joy and pain | ||
+ | By thee were fashion' | ||
+ | And as I grew in years, still didst thou blend | ||
+ | With all my ardours: thou wast the deep glen; | ||
+ | Thou wast the mountain-top--the sage's pen-- | ||
+ | The poet's harp--the voice of friends--the sun; | ||
+ | Thou wast the river--thou wast glory won; | ||
+ | Thou wast my clarion' | ||
+ | My goblet full of wine--my topmost deed:-- | ||
+ | Thou wast the charm of women, lovely Moon! | ||
+ | O what a wild and harmonized tune | ||
+ | My spirit struck from all the beautiful! | ||
+ | On some bright essence could I lean, and lull | ||
+ | Myself to immortality: | ||
+ | Nature' | ||
+ | But, gentle Orb! there came a nearer bliss-- | ||
+ | My strange love came--Felicity' | ||
+ | She came, and thou didst fade, and fade away-- | ||
+ | Yet not entirely; no, thy starry sway | ||
+ | Has been an under-passion to this hour. | ||
+ | Now I begin to feel thine orby power | ||
+ | Is coming fresh upon me: O be kind, | ||
+ | Keep back thine influence, and do not blind | ||
+ | My sovereign vision.--Dearest love, forgive | ||
+ | That I can think away from thee and live!-- | ||
+ | Pardon me, airy planet, that I prize | ||
+ | One thought beyond thine argent luxuries! | ||
+ | How far beyond!" | ||
+ | Frosted the springing verdure of his heart; | ||
+ | For as he lifted up his eyes to swear | ||
+ | How his own goddess was past all things fair, | ||
+ | He saw far in the concave green of the sea | ||
+ | An old man sitting calm and peacefully. | ||
+ | Upon a weeded rock this old man sat, | ||
+ | And his white hair was awful, and a mat | ||
+ | Of weeds were cold beneath his cold thin feet; | ||
+ | And, ample as the largest winding-sheet, | ||
+ | A cloak of blue wrapp' | ||
+ | O' | ||
+ | Of ambitious magic: every ocean-form | ||
+ | Was woven in with black distinctness; | ||
+ | And calm, and whispering, and hideous roar | ||
+ | Were emblem' | ||
+ | That skims, or dives, or sleeps, 'twixt cape and cape. | ||
+ | The gulphing whale was like a dot in the spell, | ||
+ | Yet look upon it, and ' | ||
+ | To its huge self; and the minutest fish | ||
+ | Would pass the very hardest gazer' | ||
+ | And show his little eye's anatomy. | ||
+ | Then there was pictur' | ||
+ | Of Neptune; and the sea nymphs round his state, | ||
+ | In beauteous vassalage, look up and wait. | ||
+ | Beside this old man lay a pearly wand, | ||
+ | And in his lap a book, the which he conn' | ||
+ | So stedfastly, that the new denizen | ||
+ | Had time to keep him in amazed ken, | ||
+ | To mark these shadowings, and stand in awe. | ||
+ | |||
+ | The old man rais'd his hoary head and saw | ||
+ | The wilder' | ||
+ | His features were so lifeless. Suddenly | ||
+ | He woke as from a trance; his snow-white brows | ||
+ | Went arching up, and like two magic ploughs | ||
+ | Furrow' | ||
+ | Which kept as fixedly as rocky marge, | ||
+ | Till round his wither' | ||
+ | Then up he rose, like one whose tedious toil | ||
+ | Had watch' | ||
+ | Who had not from mid-life to utmost age | ||
+ | Eas'd in one accent his o' | ||
+ | Even to the trees. He rose: he grasp' | ||
+ | With convuls' | ||
+ | And in a voice of solemn joy, that aw'd | ||
+ | Echo into oblivion, he said:-- | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Thou art the man! Now shall I lay my head | ||
+ | In peace upon my watery pillow: now | ||
+ | Sleep will come smoothly to my weary brow. | ||
+ | O Jove! I shall be young again, be young! | ||
+ | O shell-borne Neptune, I am pierc' | ||
+ | With new-born life! What shall I do? Where go, | ||
+ | When I have cast this serpent-skin of woe?-- | ||
+ | I'll swim to the syrens, and one moment listen | ||
+ | Their melodies, and see their long hair glisten; | ||
+ | Anon upon that giant' | ||
+ | That writhes about the roots of Sicily: | ||
+ | To northern seas I'll in a twinkling sail, | ||
+ | And mount upon the snortings of a whale | ||
+ | To some black cloud; thence down I'll madly sweep | ||
+ | On forked lightning, to the deepest deep, | ||
+ | Where through some sucking pool I will be hurl' | ||
+ | With rapture to the other side of the world! | ||
+ | O, I am full of gladness! Sisters three, | ||
+ | I bow full hearted to your old decree! | ||
+ | Yes, every god be thank' | ||
+ | For I no more shall wither, droop, and pine. | ||
+ | Thou art the man!" Endymion started back | ||
+ | Dismay' | ||
+ | Tortures hot breath, and speech of agony, | ||
+ | Mutter' | ||
+ | In this cold region? Will he let me freeze, | ||
+ | And float my brittle limbs o'er polar seas? | ||
+ | Or will he touch me with his searing hand, | ||
+ | And leave a black memorial on the sand? | ||
+ | Or tear me piece-meal with a bony saw, | ||
+ | And keep me as a chosen food to draw | ||
+ | His magian fish through hated fire and flame? | ||
+ | O misery of hell! resistless, tame, | ||
+ | Am I to be burnt up? No, I will shout, | ||
+ | Until the gods through heaven' | ||
+ | O Tartarus! but some few days agone | ||
+ | Her soft arms were entwining me, and on | ||
+ | Her voice I hung like fruit among green leaves: | ||
+ | Her lips were all my own, and--ah, ripe sheaves | ||
+ | Of happiness! ye on the stubble droop, | ||
+ | But never may be garner' | ||
+ | My head, and kiss death' | ||
+ | Is there no hope from thee? This horrid spell | ||
+ | Would melt at thy sweet breath.--By Dian's hind | ||
+ | Feeding from her white fingers, on the wind | ||
+ | I see thy streaming hair! and now, by Pan, | ||
+ | I care not for this old mysterious man!" | ||
+ | |||
+ | He spake, and walking to that aged form, | ||
+ | Look'd high defiance. Lo! his heart 'gan warm | ||
+ | With pity, for the grey-hair' | ||
+ | Had he then wrong' | ||
+ | Had he, though blindly contumelious, | ||
+ | Rheum to kind eyes, a sting to human thought, | ||
+ | Convulsion to a mouth of many years? | ||
+ | He had in truth; and he was ripe for tears. | ||
+ | The penitent shower fell, as down he knelt | ||
+ | Before that care-worn sage, who trembling felt | ||
+ | About his large dark locks, and faultering spake: | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | I know thine inmost bosom, and I feel | ||
+ | A very brother' | ||
+ | Into mine own: for why? thou openest | ||
+ | The prison gates that have so long opprest | ||
+ | My weary watching. Though thou know' | ||
+ | Thou art commission' | ||
+ | For great enfranchisement. O weep no more; | ||
+ | I am a friend to love, to loves of yore: | ||
+ | Aye, hadst thou never lov'd an unknown power | ||
+ | I had been grieving at this joyous hour | ||
+ | But even now most miserable old, | ||
+ | I saw thee, and my blood no longer cold | ||
+ | Gave mighty pulses: in this tottering case | ||
+ | Grew a new heart, which at this moment plays | ||
+ | As dancingly as thine. Be not afraid, | ||
+ | For thou shalt hear this secret all display' | ||
+ | Now as we speed towards our joyous task." | ||
+ | |||
+ | So saying, this young soul in age's mask | ||
+ | Went forward with the Carian side by side: | ||
+ | Resuming quickly thus; while ocean' | ||
+ | Hung swollen at their backs, and jewel' | ||
+ | Took silently their foot-prints. "My soul stands | ||
+ | Now past the midway from mortality, | ||
+ | And so I can prepare without a sigh | ||
+ | To tell thee briefly all my joy and pain. | ||
+ | I was a fisher once, upon this main, | ||
+ | And my boat danc'd in every creek and bay; | ||
+ | Rough billows were my home by night and day,-- | ||
+ | The sea-gulls not more constant; for I had | ||
+ | No housing from the storm and tempests mad, | ||
+ | But hollow rocks,--and they were palaces | ||
+ | Of silent happiness, of slumberous ease: | ||
+ | Long years of misery have told me so. | ||
+ | Aye, thus it was one thousand years ago. | ||
+ | One thousand years!--Is it then possible | ||
+ | To look so plainly through them? to dispel | ||
+ | A thousand years with backward glance sublime? | ||
+ | To breathe away as 'twere all scummy slime | ||
+ | From off a crystal pool, to see its deep, | ||
+ | And one's own image from the bottom peep? | ||
+ | Yes: now I am no longer wretched thrall, | ||
+ | My long captivity and moanings all | ||
+ | Are but a slime, a thin-pervading scum, | ||
+ | The which I breathe away, and thronging come | ||
+ | Like things of yesterday my youthful pleasures. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "I touch' | ||
+ | I was a lonely youth on desert shores. | ||
+ | My sports were lonely, 'mid continuous roars, | ||
+ | And craggy isles, and sea-mew' | ||
+ | Plaining discrepant between sea and sky. | ||
+ | Dolphins were still my playmates; shapes unseen | ||
+ | Would let me feel their scales of gold and green, | ||
+ | Nor be my desolation; and, full oft, | ||
+ | When a dread waterspout had rear'd aloft | ||
+ | Its hungry hugeness, seeming ready ripe | ||
+ | To burst with hoarsest thunderings, | ||
+ | My life away like a vast sponge of fate, | ||
+ | Some friendly monster, pitying my sad state, | ||
+ | Has dived to its foundations, | ||
+ | And left me tossing safely. But the crown | ||
+ | Of all my life was utmost quietude: | ||
+ | More did I love to lie in cavern rude, | ||
+ | Keeping in wait whole days for Neptune' | ||
+ | And if it came at last, hark, and rejoice! | ||
+ | There blush' | ||
+ | My skiff along green shelving coasts, to hear | ||
+ | The shepherd' | ||
+ | Mingled with ceaseless bleatings of his sheep: | ||
+ | And never was a day of summer shine, | ||
+ | But I beheld its birth upon the brine: | ||
+ | For I would watch all night to see unfold | ||
+ | Heaven' | ||
+ | Wide o'er the swelling streams: and constantly | ||
+ | At brim of day-tide, on some grassy lea, | ||
+ | My nets would be spread out, and I at rest. | ||
+ | The poor folk of the sea-country I blest | ||
+ | With daily boon of fish most delicate: | ||
+ | They knew not whence this bounty, and elate | ||
+ | Would strew sweet flowers on a sterile beach. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Why was I not contented? Wherefore reach | ||
+ | At things which, but for thee, O Latmian! | ||
+ | Had been my dreary death? Fool! I began | ||
+ | To feel distemper' | ||
+ | The utmost privilege that ocean' | ||
+ | Could grant in benediction: | ||
+ | Of all his kingdom. Long in misery | ||
+ | I wasted, ere in one extremest fit | ||
+ | I plung' | ||
+ | One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff | ||
+ | Might seem a work of pain; so not enough | ||
+ | Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt, | ||
+ | And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt | ||
+ | Whole days and days in sheer astonishment; | ||
+ | Forgetful utterly of self-intent; | ||
+ | Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. | ||
+ | Then, like a new fledg' | ||
+ | His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, | ||
+ | I tried in fear the pinions of my will. | ||
+ | 'Twas freedom! and at once I visited | ||
+ | The ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed. | ||
+ | No need to tell thee of them, for I see | ||
+ | That thou hast been a witness--it must be | ||
+ | For these I know thou canst not feel a drouth, | ||
+ | By the melancholy corners of that mouth. | ||
+ | So I will in my story straightway pass | ||
+ | To more immediate matter. Woe, alas! | ||
+ | That love should be my bane! Ah, Scylla fair! | ||
+ | Why did poor Glaucus ever--ever dare | ||
+ | To sue thee to his heart? Kind stranger-youth! | ||
+ | I lov'd her to the very white of truth, | ||
+ | And she would not conceive it. Timid thing! | ||
+ | She fled me swift as sea-bird on the wing, | ||
+ | Round every isle, and point, and promontory, | ||
+ | From where large Hercules wound up his story | ||
+ | Far as Egyptian Nile. My passion grew | ||
+ | The more, the more I saw her dainty hue | ||
+ | Gleam delicately through the azure clear: | ||
+ | Until 'twas too fierce agony to bear; | ||
+ | And in that agony, across my grief | ||
+ | It flash' | ||
+ | Cruel enchantress! So above the water | ||
+ | I rear'd my head, and look'd for Phoebus' | ||
+ | Aeaea' | ||
+ | It seem'd to whirl around me, and a swoon | ||
+ | Left me dead-drifting to that fatal power. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "When I awoke, 'twas in a twilight bower; | ||
+ | Just when the light of morn, with hum of bees, | ||
+ | Stole through its verdurous matting of fresh trees. | ||
+ | How sweet, and sweeter! for I heard a lyre, | ||
+ | And over it a sighing voice expire. | ||
+ | It ceased--I caught light footsteps; and anon | ||
+ | The fairest face that morn e'er look'd upon | ||
+ | Push'd through a screen of roses. Starry Jove! | ||
+ | With tears, and smiles, and honey-words she wove | ||
+ | A net whose thraldom was more bliss than all | ||
+ | The range of flower' | ||
+ | The dew of her rich speech: "Ah! Art awake? | ||
+ | O let me hear thee speak, for Cupid' | ||
+ | I am so oppress' | ||
+ | An urn of tears, as though thou wert cold dead; | ||
+ | And now I find thee living, I will pour | ||
+ | From these devoted eyes their silver store, | ||
+ | Until exhausted of the latest drop, | ||
+ | So it will pleasure thee, and force thee stop | ||
+ | Here, that I too may live: but if beyond | ||
+ | Such cool and sorrowful offerings, thou art fond | ||
+ | Of soothing warmth, of dalliance supreme; | ||
+ | If thou art ripe to taste a long love dream; | ||
+ | If smiles, if dimples, tongues for ardour mute, | ||
+ | Hang in thy vision like a tempting fruit, | ||
+ | O let me pluck it for thee." Thus she link' | ||
+ | Her charming syllables, till indistinct | ||
+ | Their music came to my o' | ||
+ | And then she hover' | ||
+ | So near, that if no nearer it had been | ||
+ | This furrow' | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Young man of Latmos! thus particular | ||
+ | Am I, that thou may'st plainly see how far | ||
+ | This fierce temptation went: and thou may'st not | ||
+ | Exclaim, How then, was Scylla quite forgot? | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Who could resist? Who in this universe? | ||
+ | She did so breathe ambrosia; so immerse | ||
+ | My fine existence in a golden clime. | ||
+ | She took me like a child of suckling time, | ||
+ | And cradled me in roses. Thus condemn' | ||
+ | The current of my former life was stemm' | ||
+ | And to this arbitrary queen of sense | ||
+ | I bow'd a tranced vassal: nor would thence | ||
+ | Have mov'd, even though Amphion' | ||
+ | Me back to Scylla o'er the billows rude. | ||
+ | For as Apollo each eve doth devise | ||
+ | A new appareling for western skies; | ||
+ | So every eve, nay every spendthrift hour | ||
+ | Shed balmy consciousness within that bower. | ||
+ | And I was free of haunts umbrageous; | ||
+ | Could wander in the mazy forest-house | ||
+ | Of squirrels, foxes shy, and antler' | ||
+ | And birds from coverts innermost and drear | ||
+ | Warbling for very joy mellifluous sorrow-- | ||
+ | To me new born delights! | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Now let me borrow, | ||
+ | For moments few, a temperament as stern | ||
+ | As Pluto' | ||
+ | These uttering lips, while I in calm speech tell | ||
+ | How specious heaven was changed to real hell. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "One morn she left me sleeping: half awake | ||
+ | I sought for her smooth arms and lips, to slake | ||
+ | My greedy thirst with nectarous camel-draughts; | ||
+ | But she was gone. Whereat the barbed shafts | ||
+ | Of disappointment stuck in me so sore, | ||
+ | That out I ran and search' | ||
+ | Wandering about in pine and cedar gloom | ||
+ | Damp awe assail' | ||
+ | A sound of moan, an agony of sound, | ||
+ | Sepulchral from the distance all around. | ||
+ | Then came a conquering earth-thunder, | ||
+ | That fierce complain to silence: while I stumbled | ||
+ | Down a precipitous path, as if impell' | ||
+ | I came to a dark valley.--Groanings swell' | ||
+ | Poisonous about my ears, and louder grew, | ||
+ | The nearer I approach' | ||
+ | That glar'd before me through a thorny brake. | ||
+ | This fire, like the eye of gordian snake, | ||
+ | Bewitch' | ||
+ | A sight too fearful for the feel of fear: | ||
+ | In thicket hid I curs'd the haggard scene-- | ||
+ | The banquet of my arms, my arbour queen, | ||
+ | Seated upon an uptorn forest root; | ||
+ | And all around her shapes, wizard and brute, | ||
+ | Laughing, and wailing, groveling, serpenting, | ||
+ | Shewing tooth, tusk, and venom-bag, and sting! | ||
+ | O such deformities! Old Charon' | ||
+ | Should he give up awhile his penny pelf, | ||
+ | And take a dream 'mong rushes Stygian, | ||
+ | It could not be so phantasied. Fierce, wan, | ||
+ | And tyrannizing was the lady's look, | ||
+ | As over them a gnarled staff she shook. | ||
+ | Oft-times upon the sudden she laugh' | ||
+ | And from a basket emptied to the rout | ||
+ | Clusters of grapes, the which they raven' | ||
+ | And roar'd for more; with many a hungry lick | ||
+ | About their shaggy jaws. Avenging, slow, | ||
+ | Anon she took a branch of mistletoe, | ||
+ | And emptied on't a black dull-gurgling phial: | ||
+ | Groan' | ||
+ | Was sharpening for their pitiable bones. | ||
+ | She lifted up the charm: appealing groans | ||
+ | From their poor breasts went sueing to her ear | ||
+ | In vain; remorseless as an infant' | ||
+ | She whisk' | ||
+ | Whereat was heard a noise of painful toil, | ||
+ | Increasing gradual to a tempest rage, | ||
+ | Shrieks, yells, and groans of torture-pilgrimage; | ||
+ | Until their grieved bodies 'gan to bloat | ||
+ | And puff from the tail's end to stifled throat: | ||
+ | Then was appalling silence: then a sight | ||
+ | More wildering than all that hoarse affright; | ||
+ | For the whole herd, as by a whirlwind writhen, | ||
+ | Went through the dismal air like one huge Python | ||
+ | Antagonizing Boreas, | ||
+ | Yet there was not a breath of wind: she banish' | ||
+ | These phantoms with a nod. Lo! from the dark | ||
+ | Came waggish fauns, and nymphs, and satyrs stark, | ||
+ | With dancing and loud revelry, | ||
+ | Swifter than centaurs after rapine bent.-- | ||
+ | Sighing an elephant appear' | ||
+ | Before the fierce witch, speaking thus aloud | ||
+ | In human accent: " | ||
+ | Of pains resistless! make my being brief, | ||
+ | Or let me from this heavy prison fly: | ||
+ | Or give me to the air, or let me die! | ||
+ | I sue not for my happy crown again; | ||
+ | I sue not for my phalanx on the plain; | ||
+ | I sue not for my lone, my widow' | ||
+ | I sue not for my ruddy drops of life, | ||
+ | My children fair, my lovely girls and boys! | ||
+ | I will forget them; I will pass these joys; | ||
+ | Ask nought so heavenward, so too--too high: | ||
+ | Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die, | ||
+ | Or be deliver' | ||
+ | From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh, | ||
+ | And merely given to the cold bleak air. | ||
+ | Have mercy, Goddess! Circe, feel my prayer!" | ||
+ | |||
+ | That curst magician' | ||
+ | Upon my wild conjecturing: | ||
+ | Naked and sabre-like against my heart. | ||
+ | I saw a fury whetting a death-dart; | ||
+ | And my slain spirit, overwrought with fright, | ||
+ | Fainted away in that dark lair of night. | ||
+ | Think, my deliverer, how desolate | ||
+ | My waking must have been! disgust, and hate, | ||
+ | And terrors manifold divided me | ||
+ | A spoil amongst them. I prepar' | ||
+ | Into the dungeon core of that wild wood: | ||
+ | I fled three days--when lo! before me stood | ||
+ | Glaring the angry witch. O Dis, even now, | ||
+ | A clammy dew is beading on my brow, | ||
+ | At mere remembering her pale laugh, and curse. | ||
+ | "Ha! ha! Sir Dainty! there must be a nurse | ||
+ | Made of rose leaves and thistledown, | ||
+ | To cradle thee my sweet, and lull thee: yes, | ||
+ | I am too flinty-hard for thy nice touch: | ||
+ | My tenderest squeeze is but a giant' | ||
+ | So, fairy-thing, | ||
+ | Unheard of yet; and it shall still its cries | ||
+ | Upon some breast more lily-feminine. | ||
+ | Oh, no--it shall not pine, and pine, and pine | ||
+ | More than one pretty, trifling thousand years; | ||
+ | And then 'twere pity, but fate's gentle shears | ||
+ | Cut short its immortality. Sea-flirt! | ||
+ | Young dove of the waters! truly I'll not hurt | ||
+ | One hair of thine: see how I weep and sigh, | ||
+ | That our heart-broken parting is so nigh. | ||
+ | And must we part? Ah, yes, it must be so. | ||
+ | Yet ere thou leavest me in utter woe, | ||
+ | Let me sob over thee my last adieus, | ||
+ | And speak a blessing: Mark me! thou hast thews | ||
+ | Immortal, for thou art of heavenly race: | ||
+ | But such a love is mine, that here I chase | ||
+ | Eternally away from thee all bloom | ||
+ | Of youth, and destine thee towards a tomb. | ||
+ | Hence shalt thou quickly to the watery vast; | ||
+ | And there, ere many days be overpast, | ||
+ | Disabled age shall seize thee; and even then | ||
+ | Thou shalt not go the way of aged men; | ||
+ | But live and wither, cripple and still breathe | ||
+ | Ten hundred years: which gone, I then bequeath | ||
+ | Thy fragile bones to unknown burial. | ||
+ | Adieu, sweet love, adieu!" | ||
+ | She fled ere I could groan for mercy. Stung | ||
+ | And poisoned was my spirit: despair sung | ||
+ | A war-song of defiance ' | ||
+ | A hand was at my shoulder to compel | ||
+ | My sullen steps; another 'fore my eyes | ||
+ | Moved on with pointed finger. In this guise | ||
+ | Enforced, at the last by ocean' | ||
+ | I found me; by my fresh, my native home. | ||
+ | Its tempering coolness, to my life akin, | ||
+ | Came salutary as I waded in; | ||
+ | And, with a blind voluptuous rage, I gave | ||
+ | Battle to the swollen billow-ridge, | ||
+ | Large froth before me, while there yet remain' | ||
+ | Hale strength, nor from my bones all marrow drain' | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Young lover, I must weep--such hellish spite | ||
+ | With dry cheek who can tell? While thus my might | ||
+ | Proving upon this element, dismay' | ||
+ | Upon a dead thing' | ||
+ | I look' | ||
+ | O vulture-witch, | ||
+ | Could not thy harshest vengeance be content, | ||
+ | But thou must nip this tender innocent | ||
+ | Because I lov'd her?--Cold, O cold indeed | ||
+ | Were her fair limbs, and like a common weed | ||
+ | The sea-swell took her hair. Dead as she was | ||
+ | I clung about her waist, nor ceas'd to pass | ||
+ | Fleet as an arrow through unfathom' | ||
+ | Until there shone a fabric crystalline, | ||
+ | Ribb'd and inlaid with coral, pebble, and pearl. | ||
+ | Headlong I darted; at one eager swirl | ||
+ | Gain'd its bright portal, enter' | ||
+ | 'Twas vast, and desolate, and icy-cold; | ||
+ | And all around--But wherefore this to thee | ||
+ | Who in few minutes more thyself shalt see?-- | ||
+ | I left poor Scylla in a niche and fled. | ||
+ | My fever' | ||
+ | Met palsy half way: soon these limbs became | ||
+ | Gaunt, wither' | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Now let me pass a cruel, cruel space, | ||
+ | Without one hope, without one faintest trace | ||
+ | Of mitigation, or redeeming bubble | ||
+ | Of colour' | ||
+ | Thy brain to loss of reason: and next tell | ||
+ | How a restoring chance came down to quell | ||
+ | One half of the witch in me. On a day, | ||
+ | Sitting upon a rock above the spray, | ||
+ | I saw grow up from the horizon' | ||
+ | A gallant vessel: soon she seem'd to sink | ||
+ | Away from me again, as though her course | ||
+ | Had been resum' | ||
+ | So vanish' | ||
+ | Dark clouds, and muttering of winds morose. | ||
+ | Old Eolus would stifle his mad spleen, | ||
+ | But could not: therefore all the billows green | ||
+ | Toss'd up the silver spume against the clouds. | ||
+ | The tempest came: I saw that vessel' | ||
+ | In perilous bustle; while upon the deck | ||
+ | Stood trembling creatures. I beheld the wreck; | ||
+ | The final gulphing; the poor struggling souls: | ||
+ | I heard their cries amid loud thunder-rolls. | ||
+ | O they had all been sav'd but crazed eld | ||
+ | Annull' | ||
+ | And curb' | ||
+ | Writhing with pity, and a cursing fit | ||
+ | Against that hell-born Circe. The crew had gone, | ||
+ | By one and one, to pale oblivion; | ||
+ | And I was gazing on the surges prone, | ||
+ | With many a scalding tear and many a groan, | ||
+ | When at my feet emerg' | ||
+ | Grasping this scroll, and this same slender wand. | ||
+ | I knelt with pain--reached out my hand--had grasp' | ||
+ | These treasures--touch' | ||
+ | I caught a finger: but the downward weight | ||
+ | O' | ||
+ | The storm, and through chill aguish gloom outburst | ||
+ | The comfortable sun. I was athirst | ||
+ | To search the book, and in the warming air | ||
+ | Parted its dripping leaves with eager care. | ||
+ | Strange matters did it treat of, and drew on | ||
+ | My soul page after page, till well-nigh won | ||
+ | Into forgetfulness; | ||
+ | I read these words, and read again, and tried | ||
+ | My eyes against the heavens, and read again. | ||
+ | O what a load of misery and pain | ||
+ | Each Atlas-line bore off!--a shine of hope | ||
+ | Came gold around me, cheering me to cope | ||
+ | Strenuous with hellish tyranny. Attend! | ||
+ | For thou hast brought their promise to an end. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "In the wide sea there lives a forlorn wretch, | ||
+ | Doom'd with enfeebled carcase to outstretch | ||
+ | His loath' | ||
+ | And then to die alone. Who can devise | ||
+ | A total opposition? No one. So | ||
+ | One million times ocean must ebb and flow, | ||
+ | And he oppressed. Yet he shall not die, | ||
+ | These things accomplish' | ||
+ | Scans all the depths of magic, and expounds | ||
+ | The meanings of all motions, shapes, and sounds; | ||
+ | If he explores all forms and substances | ||
+ | Straight homeward to their symbol-essences; | ||
+ | He shall not die. Moreover, and in chief, | ||
+ | He must pursue this task of joy and grief | ||
+ | Most piously; | ||
+ | And in the savage overwhelming lost, | ||
+ | He shall deposit side by side, until | ||
+ | Time's creeping shall the dreary space fulfil: | ||
+ | Which done, and all these labours ripened, | ||
+ | A youth, by heavenly power lov'd and led, | ||
+ | Shall stand before him; whom he shall direct | ||
+ | How to consummate all. The youth elect | ||
+ | Must do the thing, or both will be destroy' | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | "We are twin brothers in this destiny! | ||
+ | Say, I intreat thee, what achievement high | ||
+ | Is, in this restless world, for me reserv' | ||
+ | What! if from thee my wandering feet had swerv' | ||
+ | Had we both perish' | ||
+ | "Dost thou not mark a gleaming through the tide, | ||
+ | Of divers brilliances? | ||
+ | I told thee of, where lovely Scylla lies; | ||
+ | And where I have enshrined piously | ||
+ | All lovers, whom fell storms have doom'd to die | ||
+ | Throughout my bondage." | ||
+ | They went till unobscur' | ||
+ | Which hurryingly they gain' | ||
+ | Sure never since king Neptune held his state | ||
+ | Was seen such wonder underneath the stars. | ||
+ | Turn to some level plain where haughty Mars | ||
+ | Has legion' | ||
+ | How every soldier, with firm foot, doth hold | ||
+ | His even breast: see, many steeled squares, | ||
+ | And rigid ranks of iron--whence who dares | ||
+ | One step? Imagine further, line by line, | ||
+ | These warrior thousands on the field supine:-- | ||
+ | So in that crystal place, in silent rows, | ||
+ | Poor lovers lay at rest from joys and woes.-- | ||
+ | The stranger from the mountains, breathless, trac' | ||
+ | Such thousands of shut eyes in order plac' | ||
+ | Such ranges of white feet, and patient lips | ||
+ | All ruddy,--for here death no blossom nips. | ||
+ | He mark'd their brows and foreheads; saw their hair | ||
+ | Put sleekly on one side with nicest care; | ||
+ | And each one's gentle wrists, with reverence, | ||
+ | Put cross-wise to its heart. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "Let us commence, | ||
+ | Whisper' | ||
+ | He spake, and, trembling like an aspen-bough, | ||
+ | Began to tear his scroll in pieces small, | ||
+ | Uttering the while some mumblings funeral. | ||
+ | He tore it into pieces small as snow | ||
+ | That drifts unfeather' | ||
+ | And having done it, took his dark blue cloak | ||
+ | And bound it round Endymion: then struck | ||
+ | His wand against the empty air times nine.-- | ||
+ | "What more there is to do, young man, is thine: | ||
+ | But first a little patience; first undo | ||
+ | This tangled thread, and wind it to a clue. | ||
+ | Ah, gentle! 'tis as weak as spider' | ||
+ | And shouldst thou break it--What, is it done so clean? | ||
+ | A power overshadows thee! Oh, brave! | ||
+ | The spite of hell is tumbling to its grave. | ||
+ | Here is a shell; 'tis pearly blank to me, | ||
+ | Nor mark'd with any sign or charactery-- | ||
+ | Canst thou read aught? O read for pity's sake! | ||
+ | Olympus! we are safe! Now, Carian, break | ||
+ | This wand against yon lyre on the pedestal." | ||
+ | |||
+ | 'Twas done: and straight with sudden swell and fall | ||
+ | Sweet music breath' | ||
+ | A lullaby to silence.--" | ||
+ | These minced leaves on me, and passing through | ||
+ | Those files of dead, scatter the same around, | ||
+ | And thou wilt see the issue." | ||
+ | Of flutes and viols, ravishing his heart, | ||
+ | Endymion from Glaucus stood apart, | ||
+ | And scatter' | ||
+ | How lightning-swift the change! a youthful wight | ||
+ | Smiling beneath a coral diadem, | ||
+ | Out-sparkling sudden like an upturn' | ||
+ | Appear' | ||
+ | Kneel' | ||
+ | Press' | ||
+ | Endymion, with quick hand, the charm applied-- | ||
+ | The nymph arose: he left them to their joy, | ||
+ | And onward went upon his high employ, | ||
+ | Showering those powerful fragments on the dead. | ||
+ | And, as he pass' | ||
+ | As doth a flower at Apollo' | ||
+ | Death felt it to his inwards; 'twas too much: | ||
+ | Death fell a weeping in his charnel-house. | ||
+ | The Latmian persever' | ||
+ | All were re-animated. There arose | ||
+ | A noise of harmony, pulses and throes | ||
+ | Of gladness in the air--while many, who | ||
+ | Had died in mutual arms devout and true, | ||
+ | Sprang to each other madly; and the rest | ||
+ | Felt a high certainty of being blest. | ||
+ | They gaz'd upon Endymion. Enchantment | ||
+ | Grew drunken, and would have its head and bent. | ||
+ | Delicious symphonies, like airy flowers, | ||
+ | Budded, and swell' | ||
+ | Of light, soft, unseen leaves of sounds divine. | ||
+ | The two deliverers tasted a pure wine | ||
+ | Of happiness, from fairy-press ooz'd out. | ||
+ | Speechless they eyed each other, and about | ||
+ | The fair assembly wander' | ||
+ | Distracted with the richest overflow | ||
+ | Of joy that ever pour'd from heaven. | ||
+ | |||
+ | ----" | ||
+ | Shouted the new-born god; " | ||
+ | Our piety to Neptunus supreme!" | ||
+ | Then Scylla, blushing sweetly from her dream, | ||
+ | They led on first, bent to her meek surprise, | ||
+ | Through portal columns of a giant size, | ||
+ | Into the vaulted, boundless emerald. | ||
+ | Joyous all follow' | ||
+ | Down marble steps; pouring as easily | ||
+ | As hour-glass sand--and fast, as you might see | ||
+ | Swallows obeying the south summer' | ||
+ | Or swans upon a gentle waterfall. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus went that beautiful multitude, nor far, | ||
+ | Ere from among some rocks of glittering spar, | ||
+ | Just within ken, they saw descending thick | ||
+ | Another multitude. Whereat more quick | ||
+ | Moved either host. On a wide sand they met, | ||
+ | And of those numbers every eye was wet; | ||
+ | For each their old love found. A murmuring rose, | ||
+ | Like what was never heard in all the throes | ||
+ | Of wind and waters: 'tis past human wit | ||
+ | To tell; 'tis dizziness to think of it. | ||
+ | |||
+ | This mighty consummation made, the host | ||
+ | Mov'd on for many a league; and gain' | ||
+ | Huge sea-marks; vanward swelling in array, | ||
+ | And from the rear diminishing away,-- | ||
+ | Till a faint dawn surpris' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | God Neptune' | ||
+ | They shoulder' | ||
+ | At every onward step proud domes arose | ||
+ | In prospect, | ||
+ | Of amber ' | ||
+ | Joyous, and many as the leaves in spring, | ||
+ | Still onward; still the splendour gradual swell' | ||
+ | Rich opal domes were seen, on high upheld | ||
+ | By jasper pillars, letting through their shafts | ||
+ | A blush of coral. Copious wonder-draughts | ||
+ | Each gazer drank; and deeper drank more near: | ||
+ | For what poor mortals fragment up, as mere | ||
+ | As marble was there lavish, to the vast | ||
+ | Of one fair palace, that far far surpass' | ||
+ | Even for common bulk, those olden three, | ||
+ | Memphis, and Babylon, and Nineveh. | ||
+ | |||
+ | As large, as bright, as colour' | ||
+ | Of Iris, when unfading it doth shew | ||
+ | Beyond a silvery shower, was the arch | ||
+ | Through which this Paphian army took its march, | ||
+ | Into the outer courts of Neptune' | ||
+ | Whence could be seen, direct, a golden gate, | ||
+ | To which the leaders sped; but not half raught | ||
+ | Ere it burst open swift as fairy thought, | ||
+ | And made those dazzled thousands veil their eyes | ||
+ | Like callow eagles at the first sunrise. | ||
+ | Soon with an eagle nativeness their gaze | ||
+ | Ripe from hue-golden swoons took all the blaze, | ||
+ | And then, behold! large Neptune on his throne | ||
+ | Of emerald deep: yet not exalt alone; | ||
+ | At his right hand stood winged Love, and on | ||
+ | His left sat smiling Beauty' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Far as the mariner on highest mast | ||
+ | Can see all round upon the calmed vast, | ||
+ | So wide was Neptune' | ||
+ | Doth vault the waters, so the waters drew | ||
+ | Their doming curtains, high, magnificent, | ||
+ | Aw'd from the throne aloof;--and when storm-rent | ||
+ | Disclos' | ||
+ | But sooth' | ||
+ | Noiseless, sub-marine cloudlets, glittering | ||
+ | Death to a human eye: for there did spring | ||
+ | From natural west, and east, and south, and north, | ||
+ | A light as of four sunsets, blazing forth | ||
+ | A gold-green zenith 'bove the Sea-God' | ||
+ | Of lucid depth the floor, and far outspread | ||
+ | As breezeless lake, on which the slim canoe | ||
+ | Of feather' | ||
+ | The delicatest air: air verily, | ||
+ | But for the portraiture of clouds and sky: | ||
+ | This palace floor breath-air, | ||
+ | Of deep-seen wonders motionless, | ||
+ | Of the dome pomp, reflected in extremes, | ||
+ | Globing a golden sphere. | ||
+ | |||
+ | They stood in dreams | ||
+ | Till Triton blew his horn. The palace rang; | ||
+ | The Nereids danc' | ||
+ | And the great Sea-King bow'd his dripping head. | ||
+ | Then Love took wing, and from his pinions shed | ||
+ | On all the multitude a nectarous dew. | ||
+ | The ooze-born Goddess beckoned and drew | ||
+ | Fair Scylla and her guides to conference; | ||
+ | And when they reach' | ||
+ | She kist the sea-nymph' | ||
+ | A toying with the doves. Then, | ||
+ | And sceptre of this kingdom!" | ||
+ | "Thy vows were on a time to Nais paid: | ||
+ | Behold!" | ||
+ | From the God's large eyes; he smil'd delectable, | ||
+ | And over Glaucus held his blessing hands.-- | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Of love? Now this is cruel. Since the hour | ||
+ | I met thee in earth' | ||
+ | Have I put forth to serve thee. What, not yet | ||
+ | Escap' | ||
+ | A little patience, youth! 'twill not be long, | ||
+ | Or I am skilless quite: an idle tongue, | ||
+ | A humid eye, and steps luxurious, | ||
+ | Where these are new and strange, are ominous. | ||
+ | Aye, I have seen these signs in one of heaven, | ||
+ | When others were all blind; and were I given | ||
+ | To utter secrets, haply I might say | ||
+ | Some pleasant words:--but Love will have his day. | ||
+ | So wait awhile expectant. Pr' | ||
+ | Even in the passing of thine honey-moon, | ||
+ | Visit my Cytherea: thou wilt find | ||
+ | Cupid well-natured, | ||
+ | And pray persuade with thee--Ah, I have done, | ||
+ | All blisses be upon thee, my sweet son!" | ||
+ | Thus the fair goddess: while Endymion | ||
+ | Knelt to receive those accents halcyon. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Meantime a glorious revelry began | ||
+ | Before the Water-Monarch. Nectar ran | ||
+ | In courteous fountains to all cups outreach' | ||
+ | And plunder' | ||
+ | New growth about each shell and pendent lyre; | ||
+ | The which, in disentangling for their fire, | ||
+ | Pull'd down fresh foliage and coverture | ||
+ | For dainty toying. Cupid, empire-sure, | ||
+ | Flutter' | ||
+ | Made a delighted way. Then dance, and song, | ||
+ | And garlanding grew wild; and pleasure reign' | ||
+ | In harmless tendril they each other chain' | ||
+ | And strove who should be smother' | ||
+ | Fresh crush of leaves. | ||
+ | |||
+ | O 'tis a very sin | ||
+ | For one so weak to venture his poor verse | ||
+ | In such a place as this. O do not curse, | ||
+ | High Muses! let him hurry to the ending. | ||
+ | |||
+ | All suddenly were silent. A soft blending | ||
+ | Of dulcet instruments came charmingly; | ||
+ | And then a hymn. | ||
+ | |||
+ | "KING of the stormy sea! | ||
+ | Brother of Jove, and co-inheritor | ||
+ | Of elements! Eternally before | ||
+ | Thee the waves awful bow. Fast, stubborn rock, | ||
+ | At thy fear'd trident shrinking, doth unlock | ||
+ | Its deep foundations, | ||
+ | All mountain-rivers lost, in the wide home | ||
+ | Of thy capacious bosom ever flow. | ||
+ | Thou frownest, and old Eolus thy foe | ||
+ | Skulks to his cavern, 'mid the gruff complaint | ||
+ | Of all his rebel tempests. Dark clouds faint | ||
+ | When, from thy diadem, a silver gleam | ||
+ | Slants over blue dominion. Thy bright team | ||
+ | Gulphs in the morning light, and scuds along | ||
+ | To bring thee nearer to that golden song | ||
+ | Apollo singeth, while his chariot | ||
+ | Waits at the doors of heaven. Thou art not | ||
+ | For scenes like this: an empire stern hast thou; | ||
+ | And it hath furrow' | ||
+ | As newly come of heaven, dost thou sit | ||
+ | To blend and interknit | ||
+ | Subdued majesty with this glad time. | ||
+ | O shell-borne King sublime! | ||
+ | We lay our hearts before thee evermore-- | ||
+ | We sing, and we adore! | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | Be tender of your strings, ye soothing lutes; | ||
+ | Nor be the trumpet heard! O vain, O vain; | ||
+ | Not flowers budding in an April rain, | ||
+ | Nor breath of sleeping dove, nor river' | ||
+ | No, nor the Eolian twang of Love's own bow, | ||
+ | Can mingle music fit for the soft ear | ||
+ | Of goddess Cytherea! | ||
+ | Yet deign, white Queen of Beauty, thy fair eyes | ||
+ | On our souls' sacrifice. | ||
+ | |||
+ | " | ||
+ | Who has another care when thou hast smil' | ||
+ | Unfortunates on earth, we see at last | ||
+ | All death-shadows, | ||
+ | Our spirits, fann'd away by thy light pinions. | ||
+ | O sweetest essence! sweetest of all minions! | ||
+ | God of warm pulses, and dishevell' | ||
+ | And panting bosoms bare! | ||
+ | Dear unseen light in darkness! eclipser | ||
+ | Of light in light! delicious poisoner! | ||
+ | Thy venom' | ||
+ | We fill--we fill! | ||
+ | And by thy Mother' | ||
+ | |||
+ | |||
+ | Was heard no more | ||
+ | For clamour, when the golden palace door | ||
+ | Opened again, and from without, in shone | ||
+ | A new magnificence. On oozy throne | ||
+ | Smooth-moving came Oceanus the old, | ||
+ | To take a latest glimpse at his sheep-fold, | ||
+ | Before he went into his quiet cave | ||
+ | To muse for ever--Then a lucid wave, | ||
+ | Scoop' | ||
+ | Afloat, and pillowing up the majesty | ||
+ | Of Doris, and the Egean seer, her spouse-- | ||
+ | Next, on a dolphin, clad in laurel boughs, | ||
+ | Theban Amphion leaning on his lute: | ||
+ | His fingers went across it--All were mute | ||
+ | To gaze on Amphitrite, queen of pearls, | ||
+ | And Thetis pearly too.-- | ||
+ | |||
+ | The palace whirls | ||
+ | Around giddy Endymion; seeing he | ||
+ | Was there far strayed from mortality. | ||
+ | He could not bear it--shut his eyes in vain; | ||
+ | Imagination gave a dizzier pain. | ||
+ | "O I shall die! sweet Venus, be my stay! | ||
+ | Where is my lovely mistress? Well-away! | ||
+ | I die--I hear her voice--I feel my wing--" | ||
+ | At Neptune' | ||
+ | Of Nereids were about him, in kind strife | ||
+ | To usher back his spirit into life: | ||
+ | But still he slept. At last they interwove | ||
+ | Their cradling arms, and purpos' | ||
+ | Towards a crystal bower far away. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Lo! while slow carried through the pitying crowd, | ||
+ | To his inward senses these words spake aloud; | ||
+ | Written in star-light on the dark above: | ||
+ | Dearest Endymion! my entire love! | ||
+ | How have I dwelt in fear of fate: 'tis done-- | ||
+ | Immortal bliss for me too hast thou won. | ||
+ | Arise then! for the hen-dove shall not hatch | ||
+ | Her ready eggs, before I'll kissing snatch | ||
+ | Thee into endless heaven. Awake! awake! | ||
+ | |||
+ | The youth at once arose: a placid lake | ||
+ | Came quiet to his eyes; and forest green, | ||
+ | Cooler than all the wonders he had seen, | ||
+ | Lull'd with its simple song his fluttering breast. | ||
+ | How happy once again in grassy nest! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 48. Addressed To Haydon | < | ||
+ | High-mindedness, | ||
+ | A loving-kindness for the great man's fame, | ||
+ | Dwells here and there with people of no name, | ||
+ | In noisome alley, and in pathless wood: | ||
+ | And where we think the truth least understood, | ||
+ | Oft may be found a " | ||
+ | That ought to frighten into hooded shame | ||
+ | A money-mongering, | ||
+ | How glorious this affection for the cause | ||
+ | Of steadfast genius, toiling gallantly! | ||
+ | What when a stout unbending champion awes | ||
+ | Envy and malice to their native sty? | ||
+ | Unnumbered souls breathe out a still applause, | ||
+ | Proud to behold him in his country' | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 49. Endymion: Book II | < | ||
+ | O Sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm! | ||
+ | All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm, | ||
+ | And shadowy, through the mist of passed years: | ||
+ | For others, good or bad, hatred and tears | ||
+ | Have become indolent; but touching thine, | ||
+ | One sigh doth echo, one poor sob doth pine, | ||
+ | One kiss brings honey-dew from buried days. | ||
+ | The woes of Troy, towers smothering o'er their blaze, | ||
+ | Stiff-holden shields, far-piercing spears, keen blades, | ||
+ | Struggling, and blood, and shrieks--all dimly fades | ||
+ | Into some backward corner of the brain; | ||
+ | Yet, in our very souls, we feel amain | ||
+ | The close of Troilus and Cressid sweet. | ||
+ | Hence, pageant history! hence, gilded cheat! | ||
+ | Swart planet in the universe of deeds! | ||
+ | Wide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds | ||
+ | Along the pebbled shore of memory! | ||
+ | Many old rotten-timber' | ||
+ | Upon thy vaporous bosom, magnified | ||
+ | To goodly vessels; many a sail of pride, | ||
+ | And golden keel' | ||
+ | But wherefore this? What care, though owl did fly | ||
+ | About the great Athenian admiral' | ||
+ | What care, though striding Alexander past | ||
+ | The Indus with his Macedonian numbers? | ||
+ | Though old Ulysses tortured from his slumbers | ||
+ | The glutted Cyclops, what care? | ||
+ | Amid her window-flowers, | ||
+ | Tenderly her fancy from its maiden snow, | ||
+ | Doth more avail than these: the silver flow | ||
+ | Of Hero's tears, the swoon of Imogen, | ||
+ | Fair Pastorella in the bandit' | ||
+ | Are things to brood on with more ardency | ||
+ | Than the death-day of empires. Fearfully | ||
+ | Must such conviction come upon his head, | ||
+ | Who, thus far, discontent, has dared to tread, | ||
+ | Without one muse's smile, or kind behest, | ||
+ | The path of love and poesy. But rest, | ||
+ | In chaffing restlessness, | ||
+ | Than to be crush' | ||
+ | Love's standard on the battlements of song. | ||
+ | So once more days and nights aid me along, | ||
+ | Like legion' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Brain-sick shepherd-prince, | ||
+ | What promise hast thou faithful guarded since | ||
+ | The day of sacrifice? Or, have new sorrows | ||
+ | Come with the constant dawn upon thy morrows? | ||
+ | Alas! 'tis his old grief. For many days, | ||
+ | Has he been wandering in uncertain ways: | ||
+ | Through wilderness, and woods of mossed oaks; | ||
+ | Counting his woe-worn minutes, by the strokes | ||
+ | Of the lone woodcutter; and listening still, | ||
+ | Hour after hour, to each lush-leav' | ||
+ | Now he is sitting by a shady spring, | ||
+ | And elbow-deep with feverous fingering | ||
+ | Stems the upbursting cold: a wild rose tree | ||
+ | Pavilions him in bloom, and he doth see | ||
+ | A bud which snares his fancy: lo! but now | ||
+ | He plucks it, dips its stalk in the water: how! | ||
+ | It swells, it buds, it flowers beneath his sight; | ||
+ | And, in the middle, there is softly pight | ||
+ | A golden butterfly; upon whose wings | ||
+ | There must be surely character' | ||
+ | For with wide eye he wonders, and smiles oft. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Lightly this little herald flew aloft, | ||
+ | Follow' | ||
+ | Onward it flies. From languor' | ||
+ | His limbs are loos' | ||
+ | Dazzled to trace it in the sunny skies. | ||
+ | It seem'd he flew, the way so easy was; | ||
+ | And like a new-born spirit did he pass | ||
+ | Through the green evening quiet in the sun, | ||
+ | O'er many a heath, through many a woodland dun, | ||
+ | Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams | ||
+ | The summer time away. One track unseams | ||
+ | A wooded cleft, and, far away, the blue | ||
+ | Of ocean fades upon him; then, anew, | ||
+ | He sinks adown a solitary glen, | ||
+ | Where there was never sound of mortal men, | ||
+ | Saving, perhaps, some snow-light cadences | ||
+ | Melting to silence, when upon the breeze | ||
+ | Some holy bark let forth an anthem sweet, | ||
+ | To cheer itself to Delphi. Still his feet | ||
+ | Went swift beneath the merry-winged guide, | ||
+ | Until it reached a splashing fountain' | ||
+ | That, near a cavern' | ||
+ | Unto the temperate air: then high it soar' | ||
+ | And, downward, suddenly began to dip, | ||
+ | As if, athirst with so much toil, ' | ||
+ | The crystal spout-head: so it did, with touch | ||
+ | Most delicate, as though afraid to smutch | ||
+ | Even with mealy gold the waters clear. | ||
+ | But, at that very touch, to disappear | ||
+ | So fairy-quick, | ||
+ | Endymion sought around, and shook each bed | ||
+ | Of covert flowers in vain; and then he flung | ||
+ | Himself along the grass. What gentle tongue, | ||
+ | What whisperer disturb' | ||
+ | It was a nymph uprisen to the breast | ||
+ | In the fountain' | ||
+ | 'Mong lilies, like the youngest of the brood. | ||
+ | To him her dripping hand she softly kist, | ||
+ | And anxiously began to plait and twist | ||
+ | Her ringlets round her fingers, saying: " | ||
+ | Too long, alas, hast thou starv' | ||
+ | The bitterness of love: too long indeed, | ||
+ | Seeing thou art so gentle. Could I weed | ||
+ | Thy soul of care, by heavens, I would offer | ||
+ | All the bright riches of my crystal coffer | ||
+ | To Amphitrite; all my clear-eyed fish, | ||
+ | Golden, or rainbow-sided, | ||
+ | Vermilion-tail' | ||
+ | Yea, or my veined pebble-floor, | ||
+ | A virgin light to the deep; my grotto-sands | ||
+ | Tawny and gold, ooz'd slowly from far lands | ||
+ | By my diligent springs; my level lilies, shells, | ||
+ | My charming rod, my potent river spells; | ||
+ | Yes, every thing, even to the pearly cup | ||
+ | Meander gave me,--for I bubbled up | ||
+ | To fainting creatures in a desert wild. | ||
+ | But woe is me, I am but as a child | ||
+ | To gladden thee; and all I dare to say, | ||
+ | Is, that I pity thee; that on this day | ||
+ | I've been thy guide; that thou must wander far | ||
+ | In other regions, past the scanty bar | ||
+ | To mortal steps, before thou cans't be ta' | ||
+ | From every wasting sigh, from every pain, | ||
+ | Into the gentle bosom of thy love. | ||
+ | Why it is thus, one knows in heaven above: | ||
+ | But, a poor Naiad, I guess not. Farewel! | ||
+ | I have a ditty for my hollow cell." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Hereat, she vanished from Endymion' | ||
+ | Who brooded o'er the water in amaze: | ||
+ | The dashing fount pour'd on, and where its pool | ||
+ | Lay, half asleep, in grass and rushes cool, | ||
+ | Quick waterflies and gnats were sporting still, | ||
+ | And fish were dimpling, as if good nor ill | ||
+ | Had fallen out that hour. The wanderer, | ||
+ | Holding his forehead, to keep off the burr | ||
+ | Of smothering fancies, patiently sat down; | ||
+ | And, while beneath the evening' | ||
+ | Glow-worms began to trim their starry lamps, | ||
+ | Thus breath' | ||
+ | To take a fancied city of delight, | ||
+ | O what a wretch is he! and when 'tis his, | ||
+ | After long toil and travelling, to miss | ||
+ | The kernel of his hopes, how more than vile: | ||
+ | Yet, for him there' | ||
+ | Another city doth he set about, | ||
+ | Free from the smallest pebble-bead of doubt | ||
+ | That he will seize on trickling honey-combs: | ||
+ | Alas, he finds them dry; and then he foams, | ||
+ | And onward to another city speeds. | ||
+ | But this is human life: the war, the deeds, | ||
+ | The disappointment, | ||
+ | Imagination' | ||
+ | All human; bearing in themselves this good, | ||
+ | That they are sill the air, the subtle food, | ||
+ | To make us feel existence, and to shew | ||
+ | How quiet death is. Where soil is men grow, | ||
+ | Whether to weeds or flowers; but for me, | ||
+ | There is no depth to strike in: I can see | ||
+ | Nought earthly worth my compassing; so stand | ||
+ | Upon a misty, jutting head of land-- | ||
+ | Alone? No, no; and by the Orphean lute, | ||
+ | When mad Eurydice is listening to 't; | ||
+ | I'd rather stand upon this misty peak, | ||
+ | With not a thing to sigh for, or to seek, | ||
+ | But the soft shadow of my thrice-seen love, | ||
+ | Than be--I care not what. O meekest dove | ||
+ | Of heaven! O Cynthia, ten-times bright and fair! | ||
+ | From thy blue throne, now filling all the air, | ||
+ | Glance but one little beam of temper' | ||
+ | Into my bosom, that the dreadful might | ||
+ | And tyranny of love be somewhat scar' | ||
+ | Yet do not so, sweet queen; one torment spar' | ||
+ | Would give a pang to jealous misery, | ||
+ | Worse than the torment' | ||
+ | Large wings upon my shoulders, and point out | ||
+ | My love's far dwelling. Though the playful rout | ||
+ | Of Cupids shun thee, too divine art thou, | ||
+ | Too keen in beauty, for thy silver prow | ||
+ | Not to have dipp'd in love's most gentle stream. | ||
+ | O be propitious, nor severely deem | ||
+ | My madness impious; for, by all the stars | ||
+ | That tend thy bidding, I do think the bars | ||
+ | That kept my spirit in are burst--that I | ||
+ | Am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! | ||
+ | How beautiful thou art! The world how deep! | ||
+ | How tremulous-dazzlingly the wheels sweep | ||
+ | Around their axle! Then these gleaming reins, | ||
+ | How lithe! When this thy chariot attains | ||
+ | Is airy goal, haply some bower veils | ||
+ | Those twilight eyes? Those eyes!--my spirit fails-- | ||
+ | Dear goddess, help! or the wide-gaping air | ||
+ | Will gulph me--help!" | ||
+ | And lifted hands, and trembling lips he stood; | ||
+ | Like old Deucalion mountain' | ||
+ | Or blind Orion hungry for the morn. | ||
+ | And, but from the deep cavern there was borne | ||
+ | A voice, he had been froze to senseless stone; | ||
+ | Nor sigh of his, nor plaint, nor passion' | ||
+ | Had more been heard. Thus swell' | ||
+ | Young mountaineer! descend where alleys bend | ||
+ | Into the sparry hollows of the world! | ||
+ | Oft hast thou seen bolts of the thunder hurl' | ||
+ | As from thy threshold, day by day hast been | ||
+ | A little lower than the chilly sheen | ||
+ | Of icy pinnacles, and dipp' | ||
+ | Into the deadening ether that still charms | ||
+ | Their marble being: now, as deep profound | ||
+ | As those are high, descend! He ne'er is crown' | ||
+ | With immortality, | ||
+ | Where airy voices lead: so through the hollow, | ||
+ | The silent mysteries of earth, descend!" | ||
+ | |||
+ | He heard but the last words, nor could contend | ||
+ | One moment in reflection: for he fled | ||
+ | Into the fearful deep, to hide his head | ||
+ | From the clear moon, the trees, and coming madness. | ||
+ | |||
+ | 'Twas far too strange, and wonderful for sadness; | ||
+ | Sharpening, by degrees, his appetite | ||
+ | To dive into the deepest. Dark, nor light, | ||
+ | The region; nor bright, nor sombre wholly, | ||
+ | But mingled up; a gleaming melancholy; | ||
+ | A dusky empire and its diadems; | ||
+ | One faint eternal eventide of gems. | ||
+ | Aye, millions sparkled on a vein of gold, | ||
+ | Along whose track the prince quick footsteps told, | ||
+ | With all its lines abrupt and angular: | ||
+ | Out-shooting sometimes, like a meteor-star, | ||
+ | Through a vast antre; then the metal woof, | ||
+ | Like Vulcan' | ||
+ | Curves hugely: now, far in the deep abyss, | ||
+ | It seems an angry lightning, and doth hiss | ||
+ | Fancy into belief: anon it leads | ||
+ | Through winding passages, where sameness breeds | ||
+ | Vexing conceptions of some sudden change; | ||
+ | Whether to silver grots, or giant range | ||
+ | Of sapphire columns, or fantastic bridge | ||
+ | Athwart a flood of crystal. On a ridge | ||
+ | Now fareth he, that o'er the vast beneath | ||
+ | Towers like an ocean-cliff, | ||
+ | A hundred waterfalls, whose voices come | ||
+ | But as the murmuring surge. Chilly and numb | ||
+ | His bosom grew, when first he, far away, | ||
+ | Descried an orbed diamond, set to fray | ||
+ | Old darkness from his throne: 'twas like the sun | ||
+ | Uprisen o'er chaos: and with such a stun | ||
+ | Came the amazement, that, absorb' | ||
+ | He saw not fiercer wonders--past the wit | ||
+ | Of any spirit to tell, but one of those | ||
+ | Who, when this planet' | ||
+ | Will be its high remembrancers: | ||
+ | The mighty ones who have made eternal day | ||
+ | For Greece and England. While astonishment | ||
+ | With deep-drawn sighs was quieting, he went | ||
+ | Into a marble gallery, passing through | ||
+ | A mimic temple, so complete and true | ||
+ | In sacred custom, that he well nigh fear' | ||
+ | To search it inwards, whence far off appear' | ||
+ | Through a long pillar' | ||
+ | And, just beyond, on light tiptoe divine, | ||
+ | A quiver' | ||
+ | The youth approach' | ||
+ | Down sidelong aisles, and into niches old. | ||
+ | And when, more near against the marble cold | ||
+ | He had touch' | ||
+ | All courts and passages, where silence dead | ||
+ | Rous'd by his whispering footsteps murmured faint: | ||
+ | And long he travers' | ||
+ | Himself with every mystery, and awe; | ||
+ | Till, weary, he sat down before the maw | ||
+ | Of a wide outlet, fathomless and dim | ||
+ | To wild uncertainty and shadows grim. | ||
+ | There, when new wonders ceas'd to float before, | ||
+ | And thoughts of self came on, how crude and sore | ||
+ | The journey homeward to habitual self! | ||
+ | A mad-pursuing of the fog-born elf, | ||
+ | Whose flitting lantern, through rude nettle-briar, | ||
+ | Cheats us into a swamp, into a fire, | ||
+ | Into the bosom of a hated thing. | ||
+ | |||
+ | What misery most drowningly doth sing | ||
+ | In lone Endymion' | ||
+ | The goal of consciousness? | ||
+ | The deadly feel of solitude: for lo! | ||
+ | He cannot see the heavens, nor the flow | ||
+ | Of rivers, nor hill-flowers running wild | ||
+ | In pink and purple chequer, nor, up-pil' | ||
+ | The cloudy rack slow journeying in the west, | ||
+ | Like herded elephants; nor felt, nor prest | ||
+ | Cool grass, nor tasted the fresh slumberous air; | ||
+ | But far from such companionship to wear | ||
+ | An unknown time, surcharg' | ||
+ | Was now his lot. And must he patient stay, | ||
+ | Tracing fantastic figures with his spear? | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | No! loudly echoed times innumerable. | ||
+ | At which he straightway started, and 'gan tell | ||
+ | His paces back into the temple' | ||
+ | Warming and glowing strong in the belief | ||
+ | Of help from Dian: so that when again | ||
+ | He caught her airy form, thus did he plain, | ||
+ | Moving more near the while. "O Haunter chaste | ||
+ | Of river sides, and woods, and heathy waste, | ||
+ | Where with thy silver bow and arrows keen | ||
+ | Art thou now forested? O woodland Queen, | ||
+ | What smoothest air thy smoother forehead woos? | ||
+ | Where dost thou listen to the wide halloos | ||
+ | Of thy disparted nymphs? Through what dark tree | ||
+ | Glimmers thy crescent? Wheresoe' | ||
+ | 'Tis in the breath of heaven: thou dost taste | ||
+ | Freedom as none can taste it, nor dost waste | ||
+ | Thy loveliness in dismal elements; | ||
+ | But, finding in our green earth sweet contents, | ||
+ | There livest blissfully. Ah, if to thee | ||
+ | It feels Elysian, how rich to me, | ||
+ | An exil'd mortal, sounds its pleasant name! | ||
+ | Within my breast there lives a choking flame-- | ||
+ | O let me cool it among the zephyr-boughs! | ||
+ | A homeward fever parches up my tongue-- | ||
+ | O let me slake it at the running springs! | ||
+ | Upon my ear a noisy nothing rings-- | ||
+ | O let me once more hear the linnet' | ||
+ | Before mine eyes thick films and shadows float-- | ||
+ | O let me 'noint them with the heaven' | ||
+ | Dost thou now lave thy feet and ankles white? | ||
+ | O think how sweet to me the freshening sluice! | ||
+ | Dost thou now please thy thirst with berry-juice? | ||
+ | O think how this dry palate would rejoice! | ||
+ | If in soft slumber thou dost hear my voice, | ||
+ | Oh think how I should love a bed of flowers!-- | ||
+ | Young goddess! let me see my native bowers! | ||
+ | Deliver me from this rapacious deep!" | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus ending loudly, as he would o' | ||
+ | His destiny, alert he stood: but when | ||
+ | Obstinate silence came heavily again, | ||
+ | Feeling about for its old couch of space | ||
+ | And airy cradle, lowly bow'd his face | ||
+ | Desponding, o'er the marble floor' | ||
+ | But 'twas not long; for, sweeter than the rill | ||
+ | To its old channel, or a swollen tide | ||
+ | To margin sallows, were the leaves he spied, | ||
+ | And flowers, and wreaths, and ready myrtle crowns | ||
+ | Up heaping through the slab: refreshment drowns | ||
+ | Itself, and strives its own delights to hide-- | ||
+ | Nor in one spot alone; the floral pride | ||
+ | In a long whispering birth enchanted grew | ||
+ | Before his footsteps; as when heav'd anew | ||
+ | Old ocean rolls a lengthened wave to the shore, | ||
+ | Down whose green back the short-liv' | ||
+ | Bursts gradual, with a wayward indolence. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Increasing still in heart, and pleasant sense, | ||
+ | Upon his fairy journey on he hastes; | ||
+ | So anxious for the end, he scarcely wastes | ||
+ | One moment with his hand among the sweets: | ||
+ | Onward he goes--he stops--his bosom beats | ||
+ | As plainly in his ear, as the faint charm | ||
+ | Of which the throbs were born. This still alarm, | ||
+ | This sleepy music, forc'd him walk tiptoe: | ||
+ | For it came more softly than the east could blow | ||
+ | Arion' | ||
+ | Or than the west, made jealous by the smiles | ||
+ | Of thron' | ||
+ | To seas Ionian and Tyrian. | ||
+ | |||
+ | O did he ever live, that lonely man, | ||
+ | Who lov' | ||
+ | Of love, that fairest joys give most unrest; | ||
+ | That things of delicate and tenderest worth | ||
+ | Are swallow' | ||
+ | By one consuming flame: it doth immerse | ||
+ | And suffocate true blessings in a curse. | ||
+ | Half-happy, by comparison of bliss, | ||
+ | Is miserable. 'Twas even so with this | ||
+ | Dew-dropping melody, in the Carian' | ||
+ | First heaven, then hell, and then forgotten clear, | ||
+ | Vanish' | ||
+ | |||
+ | And down some swart abysm he had gone, | ||
+ | Had not a heavenly guide benignant led | ||
+ | To where thick myrtle branches, ' | ||
+ | Brushing, awakened: then the sounds again | ||
+ | Went noiseless as a passing noontide rain | ||
+ | Over a bower, where little space he stood; | ||
+ | For as the sunset peeps into a wood | ||
+ | So saw he panting light, and towards it went | ||
+ | Through winding alleys; and lo, wonderment! | ||
+ | Upon soft verdure saw, one here, one there, | ||
+ | Cupids a slumbering on their pinions fair. | ||
+ | |||
+ | After a thousand mazes overgone, | ||
+ | At last, with sudden step, he came upon | ||
+ | A chamber, myrtle wall' | ||
+ | Full of light, incense, tender minstrelsy, | ||
+ | And more of beautiful and strange beside: | ||
+ | For on a silken couch of rosy pride, | ||
+ | In midst of all, there lay a sleeping youth | ||
+ | Of fondest beauty; fonder, in fair sooth, | ||
+ | Than sighs could fathom, or contentment reach: | ||
+ | And coverlids gold-tinted like the peach, | ||
+ | Or ripe October' | ||
+ | Fell sleek about him in a thousand folds-- | ||
+ | Not hiding up an Apollonian curve | ||
+ | Of neck and shoulder, nor the tenting swerve | ||
+ | Of knee from knee, nor ankles pointing light; | ||
+ | But rather, giving them to the filled sight | ||
+ | Officiously. Sideway his face repos' | ||
+ | On one white arm, and tenderly unclos' | ||
+ | By tenderest pressure, a faint damask mouth | ||
+ | To slumbery pout; just as the morning south | ||
+ | Disparts a dew-lipp' | ||
+ | Four lily stalks did their white honours wed | ||
+ | To make a coronal; and round him grew | ||
+ | All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, | ||
+ | Together intertwin' | ||
+ | The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh, | ||
+ | Shading its Ethiop berries; and woodbine, | ||
+ | Of velvet leaves and bugle-blooms divine; | ||
+ | Convolvulus in streaked vases flush; | ||
+ | The creeper, mellowing for an autumn blush; | ||
+ | And virgin' | ||
+ | With others of the sisterhood. Hard by, | ||
+ | Stood serene Cupids watching silently. | ||
+ | One, kneeling to a lyre, touch' | ||
+ | Muffling to death the pathos with his wings; | ||
+ | And, ever and anon, uprose to look | ||
+ | At the youth' | ||
+ | A willow-bough, | ||
+ | And shook it on his hair; another flew | ||
+ | In through the woven roof, and fluttering-wise | ||
+ | Rain'd violets upon his sleeping eyes. | ||
+ | |||
+ | At these enchantments, | ||
+ | The breathless Latmian wonder' | ||
+ | Until, impatient in embarrassment, | ||
+ | He forthright pass' | ||
+ | To that same feather' | ||
+ | Smiling, thus whisper' | ||
+ | Thou art a wanderer, and thy presence here | ||
+ | Might seem unholy, be of happy cheer! | ||
+ | For 'tis the nicest touch of human honour, | ||
+ | When some ethereal and high-favouring donor | ||
+ | Presents immortal bowers to mortal sense; | ||
+ | As now 'tis done to thee, Endymion. Hence | ||
+ | Was I in no wise startled. So recline | ||
+ | Upon these living flowers. Here is wine, | ||
+ | Alive with sparkles--never, | ||
+ | Since Ariadne was a vintager, | ||
+ | So cool a purple: taste these juicy pears, | ||
+ | Sent me by sad Vertumnus, when his fears | ||
+ | Were high about Pomona: here is cream, | ||
+ | Deepening to richness from a snowy gleam; | ||
+ | Sweeter than that nurse Amalthea skimm' | ||
+ | For the boy Jupiter: and here, undimm' | ||
+ | By any touch, a bunch of blooming plums | ||
+ | Ready to melt between an infant' | ||
+ | And here is manna pick'd from Syrian trees, | ||
+ | In starlight, by the three Hesperides. | ||
+ | Feast on, and meanwhile I will let thee know | ||
+ | Of all these things around us." He did so, | ||
+ | Still brooding o'er the cadence of his lyre; | ||
+ | And thus: "I need not any hearing tire | ||
+ | By telling how the sea-born goddess pin' | ||
+ | For a mortal youth, and how she strove to bind | ||
+ | Him all in all unto her doting self. | ||
+ | Who would not be so prison' | ||
+ | He was content to let her amorous plea | ||
+ | Faint through his careless arms; content to see | ||
+ | An unseiz' | ||
+ | Content, O fool! to make a cold retreat, | ||
+ | When on the pleasant grass such love, lovelorn, | ||
+ | Lay sorrowing; when every tear was born | ||
+ | Of diverse passion; when her lips and eyes | ||
+ | Were clos'd in sullen moisture, and quick sighs | ||
+ | Came vex'd and pettish through her nostrils small. | ||
+ | Hush! no exclaim--yet, | ||
+ | Curses upon his head.--I was half glad, | ||
+ | But my poor mistress went distract and mad, | ||
+ | When the boar tusk'd him: so away she flew | ||
+ | To Jove's high throne, and by her plainings drew | ||
+ | Immortal tear-drops down the thunderer' | ||
+ | Whereon, it was decreed he should be rear' | ||
+ | Each summer time to life. Lo! this is he, | ||
+ | That same Adonis, safe in the privacy | ||
+ | Of this still region all his winter-sleep. | ||
+ | Aye, sleep; for when our love-sick queen did weep | ||
+ | Over his waned corse, the tremulous shower | ||
+ | Heal'd up the wound, and, with a balmy power, | ||
+ | Medicined death to a lengthened drowsiness: | ||
+ | The which she fills with visions, and doth dress | ||
+ | In all this quiet luxury; and hath set | ||
+ | Us young immortals, without any let, | ||
+ | To watch his slumber through. 'Tis well nigh pass' | ||
+ | Even to a moment' | ||
+ | She scuds with summer breezes, to pant through | ||
+ | The first long kiss, warm firstling, to renew | ||
+ | Embower' | ||
+ | Look! how those winged listeners all this while | ||
+ | Stand anxious: see! behold!" | ||
+ | Broke through the careful silence; for they heard | ||
+ | A rustling noise of leaves, and out there flutter' | ||
+ | Pigeons and doves: Adonis something mutter' | ||
+ | The while one hand, that erst upon his thigh | ||
+ | Lay dormant, mov'd convuls' | ||
+ | Up to his forehead. Then there was a hum | ||
+ | Of sudden voices, echoing, "Come! come! | ||
+ | Arise! awake! Clear summer has forth walk' | ||
+ | Unto the clover-sward, | ||
+ | Full soothingly to every nested finch: | ||
+ | Rise, Cupids! or we'll give the blue-bell pinch | ||
+ | To your dimpled arms. Once more sweet life begin!" | ||
+ | At this, from every side they hurried in, | ||
+ | Rubbing their sleepy eyes with lazy wrists, | ||
+ | And doubling overhead their little fists | ||
+ | In backward yawns. But all were soon alive: | ||
+ | For as delicious wine doth, sparkling, dive | ||
+ | In nectar' | ||
+ | So from the arbour roof down swell' | ||
+ | Odorous and enlivening; making all | ||
+ | To laugh, and play, and sing, and loudly call | ||
+ | For their sweet queen: when lo! the wreathed green | ||
+ | Disparted, and far upward could be seen | ||
+ | Blue heaven, and a silver car, air-borne, | ||
+ | Whose silent wheels, fresh wet from clouds of morn, | ||
+ | Spun off a drizzling dew,--which falling chill | ||
+ | On soft Adonis' | ||
+ | Nestle and turn uneasily about. | ||
+ | Soon were the white doves plain, with necks stretch' | ||
+ | And silken traces lighten' | ||
+ | And soon, returning from love's banishment, | ||
+ | Queen Venus leaning downward open arm' | ||
+ | Her shadow fell upon his breast, and charm' | ||
+ | A tumult to his heart, and a new life | ||
+ | Into his eyes. Ah, miserable strife, | ||
+ | But for her comforting! unhappy sight, | ||
+ | But meeting her blue orbs! Who, who can write | ||
+ | Of these first minutes? The unchariest muse | ||
+ | To embracements warm as theirs makes coy excuse. | ||
+ | |||
+ | O it has ruffled every spirit there, | ||
+ | Saving love's self, who stands superb to share | ||
+ | The general gladness: awfully he stands; | ||
+ | A sovereign quell is in his waving hands; | ||
+ | No sight can bear the lightning of his bow; | ||
+ | His quiver is mysterious, none can know | ||
+ | What themselves think of it; from forth his eyes | ||
+ | There darts strange light of varied hues and dyes: | ||
+ | A scowl is sometimes on his brow, but who | ||
+ | Look full upon it feel anon the blue | ||
+ | Of his fair eyes run liquid through their souls. | ||
+ | Endymion feels it, and no more controls | ||
+ | The burning prayer within him; so, bent low, | ||
+ | He had begun a plaining of his woe. | ||
+ | But Venus, bending forward, said: "My child, | ||
+ | Favour this gentle youth; his days are wild | ||
+ | With love--he--but alas! too well I see | ||
+ | Thou know' | ||
+ | Ah, smile not so, my son: I tell thee true, | ||
+ | That when through heavy hours I used to rue | ||
+ | The endless sleep of this new-born Adon', | ||
+ | This stranger ay I pitied. For upon | ||
+ | A dreary morning once I fled away | ||
+ | Into the breezy clouds, to weep and pray | ||
+ | For this my love: for vexing Mars had teaz' | ||
+ | Me even to tears: thence, when a little eas' | ||
+ | Down-looking, | ||
+ | I saw this youth as he despairing stood: | ||
+ | Those same dark curls blown vagrant in the wind: | ||
+ | Those same full fringed lids a constant blind | ||
+ | Over his sullen eyes: I saw him throw | ||
+ | Himself on wither' | ||
+ | Death had come sudden; for no jot he mov' | ||
+ | Yet mutter' | ||
+ | Some fair immortal, and that his embrace | ||
+ | Had zoned her through the night. There is no trace | ||
+ | Of this in heaven: I have mark'd each cheek, | ||
+ | And find it is the vainest thing to seek; | ||
+ | And that of all things 'tis kept secretest. | ||
+ | Endymion! one day thou wilt be blest: | ||
+ | So still obey the guiding hand that fends | ||
+ | Thee safely through these wonders for sweet ends. | ||
+ | 'Tis a concealment needful in extreme; | ||
+ | And if I guess' | ||
+ | Thou shouldst mount up to with me. Now adieu! | ||
+ | Here must we leave thee." | ||
+ | The impatient doves, up rose the floating car, | ||
+ | Up went the hum celestial. High afar | ||
+ | The Latmian saw them minish into nought; | ||
+ | And, when all were clear vanish' | ||
+ | A vivid lightning from that dreadful bow. | ||
+ | When all was darkened, with Etnean throe | ||
+ | The earth clos' | ||
+ | And left him once again in twilight lone. | ||
+ | |||
+ | He did not rave, he did not stare aghast, | ||
+ | For all those visions were o' | ||
+ | And he in loneliness: he felt assur' | ||
+ | Of happy times, when all he had endur' | ||
+ | Would seem a feather to the mighty prize. | ||
+ | So, with unusual gladness, on he hies | ||
+ | Through caves, and palaces of mottled ore, | ||
+ | Gold dome, and crystal wall, and turquois floor, | ||
+ | Black polish' | ||
+ | And, at the last, a diamond balustrade, | ||
+ | Leading afar past wild magnificence, | ||
+ | Spiral through ruggedest loopholes, and thence | ||
+ | Stretching across a void, then guiding o'er | ||
+ | Enormous chasms, where, all foam and roar, | ||
+ | Streams subterranean tease their granite beds; | ||
+ | Then heighten' | ||
+ | Of a thousand fountains, so that he could dash | ||
+ | The waters with his spear; but at the splash, | ||
+ | Done heedlessly, those spouting columns rose | ||
+ | Sudden a poplar' | ||
+ | His diamond path with fretwork, streaming round | ||
+ | Alive, and dazzling cool, and with a sound, | ||
+ | Haply, like dolphin tumults, when sweet shells | ||
+ | Welcome the float of Thetis. Long he dwells | ||
+ | On this delight; for, every minute' | ||
+ | The streams with changed magic interlace: | ||
+ | Sometimes like delicatest lattices, | ||
+ | Cover' | ||
+ | Moving about as in a gentle wind, | ||
+ | Which, in a wink, to watery gauze refin' | ||
+ | Pour'd into shapes of curtain' | ||
+ | Spangled, and rich with liquid broideries | ||
+ | Of flowers, peacocks, swans, and naiads fair. | ||
+ | Swifter than lightning went these wonders rare; | ||
+ | And then the water, into stubborn streams | ||
+ | Collecting, mimick' | ||
+ | Pillars, and frieze, and high fantastic roof, | ||
+ | Of those dusk places in times far aloof | ||
+ | Cathedrals call' | ||
+ | To these founts Protean, passing gulph, and dell, | ||
+ | And torrent, and ten thousand jutting shapes, | ||
+ | Half seen through deepest gloom, and griesly gapes, | ||
+ | Blackening on every side, and overhead | ||
+ | A vaulted dome like Heaven' | ||
+ | With starlight gems: aye, all so huge and strange, | ||
+ | The solitary felt a hurried change | ||
+ | Working within him into something dreary,-- | ||
+ | Vex'd like a morning eagle, lost, and weary, | ||
+ | And purblind amid foggy, midnight wolds. | ||
+ | But he revives at once: for who beholds | ||
+ | New sudden things, nor casts his mental slough? | ||
+ | Forth from a rugged arch, in the dusk below, | ||
+ | Came mother Cybele! alone--alone-- | ||
+ | In sombre chariot; dark foldings thrown | ||
+ | About her majesty, and front death-pale, | ||
+ | With turrets crown' | ||
+ | The sluggish wheels; solemn their toothed maws, | ||
+ | Their surly eyes brow-hidden, | ||
+ | Uplifted drowsily, and nervy tails | ||
+ | Cowering their tawny brushes. Silent sails | ||
+ | This shadowy queen athwart, and faints away | ||
+ | In another gloomy arch. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Wherefore delay, | ||
+ | Young traveller, in such a mournful place? | ||
+ | Art thou wayworn, or canst not further trace | ||
+ | The diamond path? And does it indeed end | ||
+ | Abrupt in middle air? Yet earthward bend | ||
+ | Thy forehead, and to Jupiter cloud-borne | ||
+ | Call ardently! He was indeed wayworn; | ||
+ | Abrupt, in middle air, his way was lost; | ||
+ | To cloud-borne Jove he bowed, and there crost | ||
+ | Towards him a large eagle, 'twixt whose wings, | ||
+ | Without one impious word, himself he flings, | ||
+ | Committed to the darkness and the gloom: | ||
+ | Down, down, uncertain to what pleasant doom, | ||
+ | Swift as a fathoming plummet down he fell | ||
+ | Through unknown things; till exhaled asphodel, | ||
+ | And rose, with spicy fannings interbreath' | ||
+ | Came swelling forth where little caves were wreath' | ||
+ | So thick with leaves and mosses, that they seem' | ||
+ | Large honey-combs of green, and freshly teem' | ||
+ | With airs delicious. In the greenest nook | ||
+ | The eagle landed him, and farewel took. | ||
+ | |||
+ | It was a jasmine bower, all bestrown | ||
+ | With golden moss. His every sense had grown | ||
+ | Ethereal for pleasure; 'bove his head | ||
+ | Flew a delight half-graspable; | ||
+ | Was Hesperean; to his capable ears | ||
+ | Silence was music from the holy spheres; | ||
+ | A dewy luxury was in his eyes; | ||
+ | The little flowers felt his pleasant sighs | ||
+ | And stirr' | ||
+ | He wander' | ||
+ | Of sudden exaltation: but, " | ||
+ | Said he, "will all this gush of feeling pass | ||
+ | Away in solitude? And must they wane, | ||
+ | Like melodies upon a sandy plain, | ||
+ | Without an echo? Then shall I be left | ||
+ | So sad, so melancholy, so bereft! | ||
+ | Yet still I feel immortal! O my love, | ||
+ | My breath of life, where art thou? High above, | ||
+ | Dancing before the morning gates of heaven? | ||
+ | Or keeping watch among those starry seven, | ||
+ | Old Atlas' children? Art a maid of the waters, | ||
+ | One of shell-winding Triton' | ||
+ | Or art, impossible! a nymph of Dian' | ||
+ | Weaving a coronal of tender scions | ||
+ | For very idleness? Where' | ||
+ | Methinks it now is at my will to start | ||
+ | Into thine arms; to scare Aurora' | ||
+ | And snatch thee from the morning; o'er the main | ||
+ | To scud like a wild bird, and take thee off | ||
+ | From thy sea-foamy cradle; or to doff | ||
+ | Thy shepherd vest, and woo thee mid fresh leaves. | ||
+ | No, no, too eagerly my soul deceives | ||
+ | Its powerless self: I know this cannot be. | ||
+ | O let me then by some sweet dreaming flee | ||
+ | To her entrancements: | ||
+ | Hither most gentle sleep! and soothing foil | ||
+ | For some few hours the coming solitude." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus spake he, and that moment felt endued | ||
+ | With power to dream deliciously; | ||
+ | Through a dim passage, searching till he found | ||
+ | The smoothest mossy bed and deepest, where | ||
+ | He threw himself, and just into the air | ||
+ | Stretching his indolent arms, he took, O bliss! | ||
+ | A naked waist: "Fair Cupid, whence is this?" | ||
+ | A well-known voice sigh' | ||
+ | At which soft ravishment, with doating cry | ||
+ | They trembled to each other.--Helicon! | ||
+ | O fountain' | ||
+ | That thou wouldst spout a little streamlet o'er | ||
+ | These sorry pages; then the verse would soar | ||
+ | And sing above this gentle pair, like lark | ||
+ | Over his nested young: but all is dark | ||
+ | Around thine aged top, and thy clear fount | ||
+ | Exhales in mists to heaven. Aye, the count | ||
+ | Of mighty Poets is made up; the scroll | ||
+ | Is folded by the Muses; the bright roll | ||
+ | Is in Apollo' | ||
+ | Have seen a new tinge in the western skies: | ||
+ | The world has done its duty. Yet, oh yet, | ||
+ | Although the sun of poesy is set, | ||
+ | These lovers did embrace, and we must weep | ||
+ | That there is no old power left to steep | ||
+ | A quill immortal in their joyous tears. | ||
+ | Long time in silence did their anxious fears | ||
+ | Question that thus it was; long time they lay | ||
+ | Fondling and kissing every doubt away; | ||
+ | Long time ere soft caressing sobs began | ||
+ | To mellow into words, and then there ran | ||
+ | Two bubbling springs of talk from their sweet lips. | ||
+ | "O known Unknown! from whom my being sips | ||
+ | Such darling essence, wherefore may I not | ||
+ | Be ever in these arms? in this sweet spot | ||
+ | Pillow my chin for ever? ever press | ||
+ | These toying hands and kiss their smooth excess? | ||
+ | Why not for ever and for ever feel | ||
+ | That breath about my eyes? Ah, thou wilt steal | ||
+ | Away from me again, indeed, indeed-- | ||
+ | Thou wilt be gone away, and wilt not heed | ||
+ | My lonely madness. Speak, my kindest fair! | ||
+ | Is--is it to be so? No! Who will dare | ||
+ | To pluck thee from me? And, of thine own will, | ||
+ | Full well I feel thou wouldst not leave me. Still | ||
+ | Let me entwine thee surer, surer--now | ||
+ | How can we part? Elysium! who art thou? | ||
+ | Who, that thou canst not be for ever here, | ||
+ | Or lift me with thee to some starry sphere? | ||
+ | Enchantress! tell me by this soft embrace, | ||
+ | By the most soft completion of thy face, | ||
+ | Those lips, O slippery blisses, twinkling eyes, | ||
+ | And by these tenderest, milky sovereignties-- | ||
+ | These tenderest, and by the nectar-wine, | ||
+ | The passion" | ||
+ | Endymion! dearest! Ah, unhappy me! | ||
+ | His soul will 'scape us--O felicity! | ||
+ | How he does love me! His poor temples beat | ||
+ | To the very tune of love--how sweet, sweet, sweet. | ||
+ | Revive, dear youth, or I shall faint and die; | ||
+ | Revive, or these soft hours will hurry by | ||
+ | In tranced dulness; speak, and let that spell | ||
+ | Affright this lethargy! I cannot quell | ||
+ | Its heavy pressure, and will press at least | ||
+ | My lips to thine, that they may richly feast | ||
+ | Until we taste the life of love again. | ||
+ | What! dost thou move? dost kiss? O bliss! O pain! | ||
+ | I love thee, youth, more than I can conceive; | ||
+ | And so long absence from thee doth bereave | ||
+ | My soul of any rest: yet must I hence: | ||
+ | Yet, can I not to starry eminence | ||
+ | Uplift thee; nor for very shame can own | ||
+ | Myself to thee. Ah, dearest, do not groan | ||
+ | Or thou wilt force me from this secrecy, | ||
+ | And I must blush in heaven. O that I | ||
+ | Had done it already; that the dreadful smiles | ||
+ | At my lost brightness, my impassion' | ||
+ | Had waned from Olympus' | ||
+ | And from all serious Gods; that our delight | ||
+ | Was quite forgotten, save of us alone! | ||
+ | And wherefore so ashamed? 'Tis but to atone | ||
+ | For endless pleasure, by some coward blushes: | ||
+ | Yet must I be a coward!--Horror rushes | ||
+ | Too palpable before me--the sad look | ||
+ | Of Jove--Minerva' | ||
+ | With awe of purity--no Cupid pinion | ||
+ | In reverence veiled--my crystaline dominion | ||
+ | Half lost, and all old hymns made nullity! | ||
+ | But what is this to love? O I could fly | ||
+ | With thee into the ken of heavenly powers, | ||
+ | So thou wouldst thus, for many sequent hours, | ||
+ | Press me so sweetly. Now I swear at once | ||
+ | That I am wise, that Pallas is a dunce-- | ||
+ | Perhaps her love like mine is but unknown-- | ||
+ | O I do think that I have been alone | ||
+ | In chastity: yes, Pallas has been sighing, | ||
+ | While every eve saw me my hair uptying | ||
+ | With fingers cool as aspen leaves. Sweet love, | ||
+ | I was as vague as solitary dove, | ||
+ | Nor knew that nests were built. Now a soft kiss-- | ||
+ | Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss, | ||
+ | An immortality of passion' | ||
+ | Ere long I will exalt thee to the shine | ||
+ | Of heaven ambrosial; and we will shade | ||
+ | Ourselves whole summers by a river glade; | ||
+ | And I will tell thee stories of the sky, | ||
+ | And breathe thee whispers of its minstrelsy. | ||
+ | My happy love will overwing all bounds! | ||
+ | O let me melt into thee; let the sounds | ||
+ | Of our close voices marry at their birth; | ||
+ | Let us entwine hoveringly--O dearth | ||
+ | Of human words! roughness of mortal speech! | ||
+ | Lispings empyrean will I sometime teach | ||
+ | Thine honied tongue--lute-breathings, | ||
+ | To have thee understand, now while I clasp | ||
+ | Thee thus, and weep for fondness--I am pain' | ||
+ | Endymion: woe! woe! is grief contain' | ||
+ | In the very deeps of pleasure, my sole life?" | ||
+ | Hereat, with many sobs, her gentle strife | ||
+ | Melted into a languor. He return' | ||
+ | Entranced vows and tears. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ye who have yearn' | ||
+ | With too much passion, will here stay and pity, | ||
+ | For the mere sake of truth; as 'tis a ditty | ||
+ | Not of these days, but long ago 'twas told | ||
+ | By a cavern wind unto a forest old; | ||
+ | And then the forest told it in a dream | ||
+ | To a sleeping lake, whose cool and level gleam | ||
+ | A poet caught as he was journeying | ||
+ | To Phoebus' | ||
+ | His weary limbs, bathing an hour's space, | ||
+ | And after, straight in that inspired place | ||
+ | He sang the story up into the air, | ||
+ | Giving it universal freedom. There | ||
+ | Has it been ever sounding for those ears | ||
+ | Whose tips are glowing hot. The legend cheers | ||
+ | Yon centinel stars; and he who listens to it | ||
+ | Must surely be self-doomed or he will rue it: | ||
+ | For quenchless burnings come upon the heart, | ||
+ | Made fiercer by a fear lest any part | ||
+ | Should be engulphed in the eddying wind. | ||
+ | As much as here is penn'd doth always find | ||
+ | A resting place, thus much comes clear and plain; | ||
+ | Anon the strange voice is upon the wane-- | ||
+ | And 'tis but echo'd from departing sound, | ||
+ | That the fair visitant at last unwound | ||
+ | Her gentle limbs, and left the youth asleep.-- | ||
+ | Thus the tradition of the gusty deep. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Now turn we to our former chroniclers.-- | ||
+ | Endymion awoke, that grief of hers | ||
+ | Sweet paining on his ear: he sickly guess' | ||
+ | How lone he was once more, and sadly press' | ||
+ | His empty arms together, hung his head, | ||
+ | And most forlorn upon that widow' | ||
+ | Sat silently. Love's madness he had known: | ||
+ | Often with more than tortured lion's groan | ||
+ | Moanings had burst from him; but now that rage | ||
+ | Had pass'd away: no longer did he wage | ||
+ | A rough-voic' | ||
+ | No, he had felt too much for such harsh jars: | ||
+ | The lyre of his soul Eolian tun' | ||
+ | Forgot all violence, and but commun' | ||
+ | With melancholy thought: O he had swoon' | ||
+ | Drunken from pleasure' | ||
+ | Henceforth was dove-like.--Loth was he to move | ||
+ | From the imprinted couch, and when he did, | ||
+ | 'Twas with slow, languid paces, and face hid | ||
+ | In muffling hands. So temper' | ||
+ | Half seeing visions that might have dismay' | ||
+ | Alecto' | ||
+ | Than Hermes' | ||
+ | Over eclipsing eyes: and at the last | ||
+ | It was a sounding grotto, vaulted, vast, | ||
+ | O'er studded with a thousand, thousand pearls, | ||
+ | And crimson mouthed shells with stubborn curls, | ||
+ | Of every shape and size, even to the bulk | ||
+ | In which whales arbour close, to brood and sulk | ||
+ | Against an endless storm. Moreover too, | ||
+ | Fish-semblances, | ||
+ | Ready to snort their streams. In this cool wonder | ||
+ | Endymion sat down, and 'gan to ponder | ||
+ | On all his life: his youth, up to the day | ||
+ | When 'mid acclaim, and feasts, and garlands gay, | ||
+ | He stept upon his shepherd throne: the look | ||
+ | Of his white palace in wild forest nook, | ||
+ | And all the revels he had lorded there: | ||
+ | Each tender maiden whom he once thought fair, | ||
+ | With every friend and fellow-woodlander-- | ||
+ | Pass'd like a dream before him. Then the spur | ||
+ | Of the old bards to mighty deeds: his plans | ||
+ | To nurse the golden age 'mong shepherd clans: | ||
+ | That wondrous night: the great Pan-festival: | ||
+ | His sister' | ||
+ | Until into the earth' | ||
+ | Then all its buried magic, till it flush' | ||
+ | High with excessive love. "And now," thought he, | ||
+ | "How long must I remain in jeopardy | ||
+ | Of blank amazements that amaze no more? | ||
+ | Now I have tasted her sweet soul to the core | ||
+ | All other depths are shallow: essences, | ||
+ | Once spiritual, are like muddy lees, | ||
+ | Meant but to fertilize my earthly root, | ||
+ | And make my branches lift a golden fruit | ||
+ | Into the bloom of heaven: other light, | ||
+ | Though it be quick and sharp enough to blight | ||
+ | The Olympian eagle' | ||
+ | Dark as the parentage of chaos. Hark! | ||
+ | My silent thoughts are echoing from these shells; | ||
+ | Or they are but the ghosts, the dying swells | ||
+ | Of noises far away? | ||
+ | He kept an anxious ear. The humming tone | ||
+ | Came louder, and behold, there as he lay, | ||
+ | On either side outgush' | ||
+ | A copious spring; and both together dash' | ||
+ | Swift, mad, fantastic round the rocks, and lash' | ||
+ | Among the conchs and shells of the lofty grot, | ||
+ | Leaving a trickling dew. At last they shot | ||
+ | Down from the ceiling' | ||
+ | As of some breathless racers whose hopes poize | ||
+ | Upon the last few steps, and with spent force | ||
+ | Along the ground they took a winding course. | ||
+ | Endymion follow' | ||
+ | Ever pursued, the other strove to shun-- | ||
+ | Follow' | ||
+ | He had left thinking of the mystery, | ||
+ | And was now rapt in tender hoverings | ||
+ | Over the vanish' | ||
+ | His dream away? What melodies are these? | ||
+ | They sound as through the whispering of trees, | ||
+ | Not native in such barren vaults. Give ear! | ||
+ | |||
+ | "O Arethusa, peerless nymph! why fear | ||
+ | Such tenderness as mine? Great Dian, why, | ||
+ | Why didst thou hear her prayer? O that I | ||
+ | Were rippling round her dainty fairness now, | ||
+ | Circling about her waist, and striving how | ||
+ | To entice her to a dive! then stealing in | ||
+ | Between her luscious lips and eyelids thin. | ||
+ | O that her shining hair was in the sun, | ||
+ | And I distilling from it thence to run | ||
+ | In amorous rillets down her shrinking form! | ||
+ | To linger on her lily shoulders, warm | ||
+ | Between her kissing breasts, and every charm | ||
+ | Touch raptur' | ||
+ | Fair maid, be pitiful to my great woe. | ||
+ | Stay, stay thy weary course, and let me lead, | ||
+ | A happy wooer, to the flowery mead | ||
+ | Where all that beauty snar'd me." | ||
+ | Desist! or my offended mistress' | ||
+ | Will stagnate all thy fountains: | ||
+ | With syren words--Ah, have I really got | ||
+ | Such power to madden thee? And is it true-- | ||
+ | Away, away, or I shall dearly rue | ||
+ | My very thoughts: in mercy then away, | ||
+ | Kindest Alpheus for should I obey | ||
+ | My own dear will, ' | ||
+ | "O, Oread-Queen! would that thou hadst a pain | ||
+ | Like this of mine, then would I fearless turn | ||
+ | And be a criminal." | ||
+ | I shudder--gentle river, get thee hence. | ||
+ | Alpheus! thou enchanter! every sense | ||
+ | Of mine was once made perfect in these woods. | ||
+ | Fresh breezes, bowery lawns, and innocent floods, | ||
+ | Ripe fruits, and lonely couch, contentment gave; | ||
+ | But ever since I heedlessly did lave | ||
+ | In thy deceitful stream, a panting glow | ||
+ | Grew strong within me: wherefore serve me so, | ||
+ | And call it love? Alas, 'twas cruelty. | ||
+ | Not once more did I close my happy eyes | ||
+ | Amid the thrush' | ||
+ | O 'twas a cruel thing." | ||
+ | So softly, Arethusa, that I think | ||
+ | If thou wast playing on my shady brink, | ||
+ | Thou wouldst bathe once again. Innocent maid! | ||
+ | Stifle thine heart no more;--nor be afraid | ||
+ | Of angry powers: there are deities | ||
+ | Will shade us with their wings. Those fitful sighs | ||
+ | 'Tis almost death to hear: O let me pour | ||
+ | A dewy balm upon them!--fear no more, | ||
+ | Sweet Arethusa! Dian's self must feel | ||
+ | Sometimes these very pangs. Dear maiden, steal | ||
+ | Blushing into my soul, and let us fly | ||
+ | These dreary caverns for the open sky. | ||
+ | I will delight thee all my winding course, | ||
+ | From the green sea up to my hidden source | ||
+ | About Arcadian forests; and will shew | ||
+ | The channels where my coolest waters flow | ||
+ | Through mossy rocks; where, 'mid exuberant green, | ||
+ | I roam in pleasant darkness, more unseen | ||
+ | Than Saturn in his exile; where I brim | ||
+ | Round flowery islands, and take thence a skim | ||
+ | Of mealy sweets, which myriads of bees | ||
+ | Buzz from their honied wings: and thou shouldst please | ||
+ | Thyself to choose the richest, where we might | ||
+ | Be incense-pillow' | ||
+ | Doff all sad fears, thou white deliciousness, | ||
+ | And let us be thus comforted; unless | ||
+ | Thou couldst rejoice to see my hopeless stream | ||
+ | Hurry distracted from Sol's temperate beam, | ||
+ | And pour to death along some hungry sands." | ||
+ | "What can I do, Alpheus? Dian stands | ||
+ | Severe before me: persecuting fate! | ||
+ | Unhappy Arethusa! thou wast late | ||
+ | A huntress free in" | ||
+ | Those two sad streams adown a fearful dell. | ||
+ | The Latmian listen' | ||
+ | Save echo, faint repeating o'er and o'er | ||
+ | The name of Arethusa. On the verge | ||
+ | Of that dark gulph he wept, and said: "I urge | ||
+ | Thee, gentle Goddess of my pilgrimage, | ||
+ | By our eternal hopes, to soothe, to assuage, | ||
+ | If thou art powerful, these lovers pains; | ||
+ | And make them happy in some happy plains. | ||
+ | |||
+ | He turn' | ||
+ | There was a cooler light; and so he kept | ||
+ | Towards it by a sandy path, and lo! | ||
+ | More suddenly than doth a moment go, | ||
+ | The visions of the earth were gone and fled-- | ||
+ | He saw the giant sea above his head. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 50. O Blush Not So! | < | ||
+ | O blush not so! O blush not so! | ||
+ | Or I shall think you knowing; | ||
+ | And if you smile the blushing while, | ||
+ | Then maidenheads are going. | ||
+ | |||
+ | There' | ||
+ | And a blush for having done it; | ||
+ | There' | ||
+ | And a blush for just begun it. | ||
+ | |||
+ | O sigh not so! O sigh not so! | ||
+ | For it sounds of Eve's sweet pippin; | ||
+ | By these loosen' | ||
+ | And fought in an amorous nipping. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Will you play once more at nice-cut-core, | ||
+ | For it only will last our youth out, | ||
+ | And we have the prime of the kissing time, | ||
+ | We have not one sweet tooth out. | ||
+ | |||
+ | There' | ||
+ | And a sigh for "I can't bear it!" | ||
+ | O what can be done, shall we stay or run? | ||
+ | O cut the sweet apple and share it! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 51. Where Be Ye Going, You Devon Maid? | ||
+ | Where be ye going, you Devon maid? | ||
+ | And what have ye there i' the basket? | ||
+ | Ye tight little fairy, just fresh from the dairy, | ||
+ | Will ye give me some cream if I ask it? | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love your meads, and I love your flowers, | ||
+ | And I love your junkets mainly, | ||
+ | But 'hind the door, I love kissing more, | ||
+ | O look not so disdainly! | ||
+ | |||
+ | I love your hills, and I love your dales, | ||
+ | And I love your flocks a-bleating; | ||
+ | But O, on the heather to lie together, | ||
+ | With both our hearts a-beating! | ||
+ | |||
+ | I'll put your basket all safe in a nook, | ||
+ | Your shawl I'll hang up on this willow, | ||
+ | And we will sigh in the daisy' | ||
+ | And kiss on a grass-green pillow. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 52. Isabella or The Pot of Basil | < | ||
+ | Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel! | ||
+ | Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye! | ||
+ | They could not in the self-same mansion dwell | ||
+ | Without some stir of heart, some malady; | ||
+ | They could not sit at meals but feel how well | ||
+ | It soothed each to be the other by; | ||
+ | They could not, sure, beneath the same roof sleep | ||
+ | But to each other dream, and nightly weep. | ||
+ | |||
+ | II. | ||
+ | With every morn their love grew tenderer, | ||
+ | With every eve deeper and tenderer still; | ||
+ | He might not in house, field, or garden stir, | ||
+ | But her full shape would all his seeing fill; | ||
+ | And his continual voice was pleasanter | ||
+ | To her, than noise of trees or hidden rill; | ||
+ | Her lute-string gave an echo of his name, | ||
+ | She spoilt her half-done broidery with the same. | ||
+ | |||
+ | III. | ||
+ | He knew whose gentle hand was at the latch, | ||
+ | Before the door had given her to his eyes; | ||
+ | And from her chamber-window he would catch | ||
+ | Her beauty farther than the falcon spies; | ||
+ | And constant as her vespers would he watch, | ||
+ | Because her face was turn'd to the same skies; | ||
+ | And with sick longing all the night outwear, | ||
+ | To hear her morning-step upon the stair. | ||
+ | |||
+ | IV. | ||
+ | A whole long month of May in this sad plight | ||
+ | Made their cheeks paler by the break of June: | ||
+ | "To morrow will I bow to my delight, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "O may I never see another night, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | So spake they to their pillows; but, alas, | ||
+ | Honeyless days and days did he let pass; | ||
+ | |||
+ | V. | ||
+ | Until sweet Isabella' | ||
+ | Fell sick within the rose's just domain, | ||
+ | Fell thin as a young mother' | ||
+ | By every lull to cool her infant' | ||
+ | "How ill she is," said he, "I may not speak, | ||
+ | "And yet I will, and tell my love all plain: | ||
+ | "If looks speak love-laws, I will drink her tears, | ||
+ | "And at the least 'twill startle off her cares." | ||
+ | |||
+ | VI. | ||
+ | So said he one fair morning, and all day | ||
+ | His heart beat awfully against his side; | ||
+ | And to his heart he inwardly did pray | ||
+ | For power to speak; but still the ruddy tide | ||
+ | Stifled his voice, and puls'd resolve away-- | ||
+ | Fever' | ||
+ | Yet brought him to the meekness of a child: | ||
+ | Alas! when passion is both meek and wild! | ||
+ | |||
+ | VII. | ||
+ | So once more he had wak'd and anguished | ||
+ | A dreary night of love and misery, | ||
+ | If Isabel' | ||
+ | To every symbol on his forehead high; | ||
+ | She saw it waxing very pale and dead, | ||
+ | And straight all flush' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | But in her tone and look he read the rest. | ||
+ | |||
+ | VIII. | ||
+ | "O Isabella, I can half perceive | ||
+ | "That I may speak my grief into thine ear; | ||
+ | "If thou didst ever any thing believe, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "My soul is to its doom: I would not grieve | ||
+ | "Thy hand by unwelcome pressing, would not fear | ||
+ | "Thine eyes by gazing; but I cannot live | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | |||
+ | IX. | ||
+ | "Love! thou art leading me from wintry cold, | ||
+ | "Lady! thou leadest me to summer clime, | ||
+ | "And I must taste the blossoms that unfold | ||
+ | "In its ripe warmth this gracious morning time." | ||
+ | So said, his erewhile timid lips grew bold, | ||
+ | And poesied with hers in dewy rhyme: | ||
+ | Great bliss was with them, and great happiness | ||
+ | Grew, like a lusty flower in June's caress. | ||
+ | |||
+ | X. | ||
+ | Parting they seem'd to tread upon the air, | ||
+ | Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart | ||
+ | Only to meet again more close, and share | ||
+ | The inward fragrance of each other' | ||
+ | She, to her chamber gone, a ditty fair | ||
+ | Sang, of delicious love and honey' | ||
+ | He with light steps went up a western hill, | ||
+ | And bade the sun farewell, and joy'd his fill. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XI. | ||
+ | All close they met again, before the dusk | ||
+ | Had taken from the stars its pleasant veil, | ||
+ | All close they met, all eves, before the dusk | ||
+ | Had taken from the stars its pleasant veil, | ||
+ | Close in a bower of hyacinth and musk, | ||
+ | Unknown of any, free from whispering tale. | ||
+ | Ah! better had it been for ever so, | ||
+ | Than idle ears should pleasure in their woe. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XII. | ||
+ | Were they unhappy then?--It cannot be-- | ||
+ | Too many tears for lovers have been shed, | ||
+ | Too many sighs give we to them in fee, | ||
+ | Too much of pity after they are dead, | ||
+ | Too many doleful stories do we see, | ||
+ | Whose matter in bright gold were best be read; | ||
+ | Except in such a page where Theseus' | ||
+ | Over the pathless waves towards him bows. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XIII. | ||
+ | But, for the general award of love, | ||
+ | The little sweet doth kill much bitterness; | ||
+ | Though Dido silent is in under-grove, | ||
+ | And Isabella' | ||
+ | Though young Lorenzo in warm Indian clove | ||
+ | Was not embalm' | ||
+ | Even bees, the little almsmen of spring-bowers, | ||
+ | Know there is richest juice in poison-flowers. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XIV. | ||
+ | With her two brothers this fair lady dwelt, | ||
+ | Enriched from ancestral merchandize, | ||
+ | And for them many a weary hand did swelt | ||
+ | In torched mines and noisy factories, | ||
+ | And many once proud-quiver' | ||
+ | In blood from stinging whip;--with hollow eyes | ||
+ | Many all day in dazzling river stood, | ||
+ | To take the rich-ored driftings of the flood. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XV. | ||
+ | For them the Ceylon diver held his breath, | ||
+ | And went all naked to the hungry shark; | ||
+ | For them his ears gush'd blood; for them in death | ||
+ | The seal on the cold ice with piteous bark | ||
+ | Lay full of darts; for them alone did seethe | ||
+ | A thousand men in troubles wide and dark: | ||
+ | Half-ignorant, | ||
+ | That set sharp racks at work, to pinch and peel. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XVI. | ||
+ | Why were they proud? Because their marble founts | ||
+ | Gush'd with more pride than do a wretch' | ||
+ | Why were they proud? Because fair orange-mounts | ||
+ | Were of more soft ascent than lazar stairs?-- | ||
+ | Why were they proud? Because red-lin' | ||
+ | Were richer than the songs of Grecian years?-- | ||
+ | Why were they proud? again we ask aloud, | ||
+ | Why in the name of Glory were they proud? | ||
+ | |||
+ | XVII. | ||
+ | Yet were these Florentines as self-retired | ||
+ | In hungry pride and gainful cowardice, | ||
+ | As two close Hebrews in that land inspired, | ||
+ | Paled in and vineyarded from beggar-spies, | ||
+ | The hawks of ship-mast forests--the untired | ||
+ | And pannier' | ||
+ | Quick cat' | ||
+ | Great wits in Spanish, Tuscan, and Malay. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XVIII. | ||
+ | How was it these same ledger-men could spy | ||
+ | Fair Isabella in her downy nest? | ||
+ | How could they find out in Lorenzo' | ||
+ | A straying from his toil? Hot Egypt' | ||
+ | Into their vision covetous and sly! | ||
+ | How could these money-bags see east and west?-- | ||
+ | Yet so they did--and every dealer fair | ||
+ | Must see behind, as doth the hunted hare. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XIX. | ||
+ | O eloquent and famed Boccaccio! | ||
+ | Of thee we now should ask forgiving boon, | ||
+ | And of thy spicy myrtles as they blow, | ||
+ | And of thy roses amorous of the moon, | ||
+ | And of thy lilies, that do paler grow | ||
+ | Now they can no more hear thy ghittern' | ||
+ | For venturing syllables that ill beseem | ||
+ | The quiet glooms of such a piteous theme. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XX. | ||
+ | Grant thou a pardon here, and then the tale | ||
+ | Shall move on soberly, as it is meet; | ||
+ | There is no other crime, no mad assail | ||
+ | To make old prose in modern rhyme more sweet: | ||
+ | But it is done--succeed the verse or fail-- | ||
+ | To honour thee, and thy gone spirit greet; | ||
+ | To stead thee as a verse in English tongue, | ||
+ | An echo of thee in the north-wind sung. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXI. | ||
+ | These brethren having found by many signs | ||
+ | What love Lorenzo for their sister had, | ||
+ | And how she lov'd him too, each unconfines | ||
+ | His bitter thoughts to other, well nigh mad | ||
+ | That he, the servant of their trade designs, | ||
+ | Should in their sister' | ||
+ | When 'twas their plan to coax her by degrees | ||
+ | To some high noble and his olive-trees. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXII. | ||
+ | And many a jealous conference had they, | ||
+ | And many times they bit their lips alone, | ||
+ | Before they fix'd upon a surest way | ||
+ | To make the youngster for his crime atone; | ||
+ | And at the last, these men of cruel clay | ||
+ | Cut Mercy with a sharp knife to the bone; | ||
+ | For they resolved in some forest dim | ||
+ | To kill Lorenzo, and there bury him. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXIII. | ||
+ | So on a pleasant morning, as he leant | ||
+ | Into the sun-rise, o'er the balustrade | ||
+ | Of the garden-terrace, | ||
+ | Their footing through the dews; and to him said, | ||
+ | "You seem there in the quiet of content, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Calm speculation; | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXIV. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "To spur three leagues towards the Apennine; | ||
+ | "Come down, we pray thee, ere the hot sun count | ||
+ | "His dewy rosary on the eglantine." | ||
+ | Lorenzo, courteously as he was wont, | ||
+ | Bow'd a fair greeting to these serpents' | ||
+ | And went in haste, to get in readiness, | ||
+ | With belt, and spur, and bracing huntsman' | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXV. | ||
+ | And as he to the court-yard pass'd along, | ||
+ | Each third step did he pause, and listen' | ||
+ | If he could hear his lady's matin-song, | ||
+ | Or the light whisper of her footstep soft; | ||
+ | And as he thus over his passion hung, | ||
+ | He heard a laugh full musical aloft; | ||
+ | When, looking up, he saw her features bright | ||
+ | Smile through an in-door lattice, all delight. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXVI. | ||
+ | "Love, Isabel!" | ||
+ | "Lest I should miss to bid thee a good morrow: | ||
+ | "Ah! what if I should lose thee, when so fain | ||
+ | "I am to stifle all the heavy sorrow | ||
+ | "Of a poor three hours' absence? but we'll gain | ||
+ | "Out of the amorous dark what day doth borrow. | ||
+ | "Good bye! I'll soon be back." | ||
+ | And as he went she chanted merrily. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXVII. | ||
+ | So the two brothers and their murder' | ||
+ | Rode past fair Florence, to where Arno's stream | ||
+ | Gurgles through straiten' | ||
+ | Itself with dancing bulrush, and the bream | ||
+ | Keeps head against the freshets. Sick and wan | ||
+ | The brothers' | ||
+ | Lorenzo' | ||
+ | Into a forest quiet for the slaughter. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXVIII. | ||
+ | There was Lorenzo slain and buried in, | ||
+ | There in that forest did his great love cease; | ||
+ | Ah! when a soul doth thus its freedom win, | ||
+ | It aches in loneliness--is ill at peace | ||
+ | As the break-covert blood-hounds of such sin: | ||
+ | They dipp'd their swords in the water, and did tease | ||
+ | Their horses homeward, with convulsed spur, | ||
+ | Each richer by his being a murderer. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXIX. | ||
+ | They told their sister how, with sudden speed, | ||
+ | Lorenzo had ta'en ship for foreign lands, | ||
+ | Because of some great urgency and need | ||
+ | In their affairs, requiring trusty hands. | ||
+ | Poor Girl! put on thy stifling widow' | ||
+ | And 'scape at once from Hope's accursed bands; | ||
+ | To-day thou wilt not see him, nor to-morrow, | ||
+ | And the next day will be a day of sorrow. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXX. | ||
+ | She weeps alone for pleasures not to be; | ||
+ | Sorely she wept until the night came on, | ||
+ | And then, instead of love, O misery! | ||
+ | She brooded o'er the luxury alone: | ||
+ | His image in the dusk she seem'd to see, | ||
+ | And to the silence made a gentle moan, | ||
+ | Spreading her perfect arms upon the air, | ||
+ | And on her couch low murmuring, " | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXXI. | ||
+ | But Selfishness, | ||
+ | Its fiery vigil in her single breast; | ||
+ | She fretted for the golden hour, and hung | ||
+ | Upon the time with feverish unrest-- | ||
+ | Not long--for soon into her heart a throng | ||
+ | Of higher occupants, a richer zest, | ||
+ | Came tragic; passion not to be subdued, | ||
+ | And sorrow for her love in travels rude. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXXII. | ||
+ | In the mid days of autumn, on their eves | ||
+ | The breath of Winter comes from far away, | ||
+ | And the sick west continually bereaves | ||
+ | Of some gold tinge, and plays a roundelay | ||
+ | Of death among the bushes and the leaves, | ||
+ | To make all bare before he dares to stray | ||
+ | From his north cavern. So sweet Isabel | ||
+ | By gradual decay from beauty fell, | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXXIII. | ||
+ | Because Lorenzo came not. Oftentimes | ||
+ | She ask'd her brothers, with an eye all pale, | ||
+ | Striving to be itself, what dungeon climes | ||
+ | Could keep him off so long? They spake a tale | ||
+ | Time after time, to quiet her. Their crimes | ||
+ | Came on them, like a smoke from Hinnom' | ||
+ | And every night in dreams they groan' | ||
+ | To see their sister in her snowy shroud. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXXIV. | ||
+ | And she had died in drowsy ignorance, | ||
+ | But for a thing more deadly dark than all; | ||
+ | It came like a fierce potion, drunk by chance, | ||
+ | Which saves a sick man from the feather' | ||
+ | For some few gasping moments; like a lance, | ||
+ | Waking an Indian from his cloudy hall | ||
+ | With cruel pierce, and bringing him again | ||
+ | Sense of the gnawing fire at heart and brain. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXXV. | ||
+ | It was a vision.--In the drowsy gloom, | ||
+ | The dull of midnight, at her couch' | ||
+ | Lorenzo stood, and wept: the forest tomb | ||
+ | Had marr'd his glossy hair which once could shoot | ||
+ | Lustre into the sun, and put cold doom | ||
+ | Upon his lips, and taken the soft lute | ||
+ | From his lorn voice, and past his loamed ears | ||
+ | Had made a miry channel for his tears. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXXVI. | ||
+ | Strange sound it was, when the pale shadow spake; | ||
+ | For there was striving, in its piteous tongue, | ||
+ | To speak as when on earth it was awake, | ||
+ | And Isabella on its music hung: | ||
+ | Languor there was in it, and tremulous shake, | ||
+ | As in a palsied Druid' | ||
+ | And through it moan'd a ghostly under-song, | ||
+ | Like hoarse night-gusts sepulchral briars among. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXXVII. | ||
+ | Its eyes, though wild, were still all dewy bright | ||
+ | With love, and kept all phantom fear aloof | ||
+ | From the poor girl by magic of their light, | ||
+ | The while it did unthread the horrid woof | ||
+ | Of the late darken' | ||
+ | Of pride and avarice, | ||
+ | In the forest, | ||
+ | Where, without any word, from stabs he fell. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXXVIII. | ||
+ | Saying moreover, " | ||
+ | "Red whortle-berries droop above my head, | ||
+ | "And a large flint-stone weighs upon my feet; | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Their leaves and prickly nuts; a sheep-fold bleat | ||
+ | "Comes from beyond the river to my bed: | ||
+ | "Go, shed one tear upon my heather-bloom, | ||
+ | "And it shall comfort me within the tomb. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XXXIX. | ||
+ | "I am a shadow now, alas! alas! | ||
+ | "Upon the skirts of human-nature dwelling | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "While little sounds of life are round me knelling, | ||
+ | "And glossy bees at noon do fieldward pass, | ||
+ | "And many a chapel bell the hour is telling, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "And thou art distant in Humanity. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XL. | ||
+ | "I know what was, I feel full well what is, | ||
+ | "And I should rage, if spirits could go mad; | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "That paleness warms my grave, as though I had | ||
+ | "A Seraph chosen from the bright abyss | ||
+ | "To be my spouse: thy paleness makes me glad; | ||
+ | "Thy beauty grows upon me, and I feel | ||
+ | "A greater love through all my essence steal." | ||
+ | |||
+ | XLI. | ||
+ | The Spirit mourn' | ||
+ | The atom darkness in a slow turmoil; | ||
+ | As when of healthful midnight sleep bereft, | ||
+ | Thinking on rugged hours and fruitless toil, | ||
+ | We put our eyes into a pillowy cleft, | ||
+ | And see the spangly gloom froth up and boil: | ||
+ | It made sad Isabella' | ||
+ | And in the dawn she started up awake; | ||
+ | |||
+ | XLII. | ||
+ | "Ha! ha!" said she, "I knew not this hard life, | ||
+ | "I thought the worst was simple misery; | ||
+ | "I thought some Fate with pleasure or with strife | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "But there is crime--a brother' | ||
+ | "Sweet Spirit, thou hast school' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "And greet thee morn and even in the skies." | ||
+ | |||
+ | XLIII. | ||
+ | When the full morning came, she had devised | ||
+ | How she might secret to the forest hie; | ||
+ | How she might find the clay, so dearly prized, | ||
+ | And sing to it one latest lullaby; | ||
+ | How her short absence might be unsurmised, | ||
+ | While she the inmost of the dream would try. | ||
+ | Resolv' | ||
+ | And went into that dismal forest-hearse. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XLIV. | ||
+ | See, as they creep along the river side, | ||
+ | How she doth whisper to that aged Dame, | ||
+ | And, after looking round the champaign wide, | ||
+ | Shows her a knife.--" | ||
+ | "Burns in thee, child? | ||
+ | "That thou should' | ||
+ | And they had found Lorenzo' | ||
+ | The flint was there, the berries at his head. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XLV. | ||
+ | Who hath not loiter' | ||
+ | And let his spirit, like a demon-mole, | ||
+ | Work through the clayey soil and gravel hard, | ||
+ | To see skull, coffin' | ||
+ | Pitying each form that hungry Death hath marr' | ||
+ | And filling it once more with human soul? | ||
+ | Ah! this is holiday to what was felt | ||
+ | When Isabella by Lorenzo knelt. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XLVI. | ||
+ | She gaz'd into the fresh-thrown mould, as though | ||
+ | One glance did fully all its secrets tell; | ||
+ | Clearly she saw, as other eyes would know | ||
+ | Pale limbs at bottom of a crystal well; | ||
+ | Upon the murderous spot she seem'd to grow, | ||
+ | Like to a native lily of the dell: | ||
+ | Then with her knife, all sudden, she began | ||
+ | To dig more fervently than misers can. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XLVII. | ||
+ | Soon she turn'd up a soiled glove, whereon | ||
+ | Her silk had play'd in purple phantasies, | ||
+ | She kiss'd it with a lip more chill than stone, | ||
+ | And put it in her bosom, where it dries | ||
+ | And freezes utterly unto the bone | ||
+ | Those dainties made to still an infant' | ||
+ | Then 'gan she work again; nor stay'd her care, | ||
+ | But to throw back at times her veiling hair. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XLVIII. | ||
+ | That old nurse stood beside her wondering, | ||
+ | Until her heart felt pity to the core | ||
+ | At sight of such a dismal labouring, | ||
+ | And so she kneeled, with her locks all hoar, | ||
+ | And put her lean hands to the horrid thing: | ||
+ | Three hours they labour' | ||
+ | At last they felt the kernel of the grave, | ||
+ | And Isabella did not stamp and rave. | ||
+ | |||
+ | XLIX. | ||
+ | Ah! wherefore all this wormy circumstance? | ||
+ | Why linger at the yawning tomb so long? | ||
+ | O for the gentleness of old Romance, | ||
+ | The simple plaining of a minstrel' | ||
+ | Fair reader, at the old tale take a glance, | ||
+ | For here, in truth, it doth not well belong | ||
+ | To speak:--O turn thee to the very tale, | ||
+ | And taste the music of that vision pale. | ||
+ | |||
+ | L. | ||
+ | With duller steel than the Persиan sword | ||
+ | They cut away no formless monster' | ||
+ | But one, whose gentleness did well accord | ||
+ | With death, as life. The ancient harps have said, | ||
+ | Love never dies, but lives, immortal Lord: | ||
+ | If Love impersonate was ever dead, | ||
+ | Pale Isabella kiss'd it, and low moan' | ||
+ | 'Twas love; cold,--dead indeed, but not dethroned. | ||
+ | |||
+ | LI. | ||
+ | In anxious secrecy they took it home, | ||
+ | And then the prize was all for Isabel: | ||
+ | She calm'd its wild hair with a golden comb, | ||
+ | And all around each eye's sepulchral cell | ||
+ | Pointed each fringed lash; the smeared loam | ||
+ | With tears, as chilly as a dripping well, | ||
+ | She drench' | ||
+ | Sighing all day--and still she kiss' | ||
+ | |||
+ | LII. | ||
+ | Then in a silken scarf, | ||
+ | Of precious flowers pluck' | ||
+ | And divine liquids come with odorous ooze | ||
+ | Through the cold serpent pipe refreshfully, | ||
+ | She wrapp' | ||
+ | A garden-pot, wherein she laid it by, | ||
+ | And cover' | ||
+ | Sweet Basil, which her tears kept ever wet. | ||
+ | |||
+ | LIII. | ||
+ | And she forgot the stars, the moon, and sun, | ||
+ | And she forgot the blue above the trees, | ||
+ | And she forgot the dells where waters run, | ||
+ | And she forgot the chilly autumn breeze; | ||
+ | She had no knowledge when the day was done, | ||
+ | And the new morn she saw not: but in peace | ||
+ | Hung over her sweet Basil evermore, | ||
+ | And moisten' | ||
+ | |||
+ | LIV. | ||
+ | And so she ever fed it with thin tears, | ||
+ | Whence thick, and green, and beautiful it grew, | ||
+ | So that it smelt more balmy than its peers | ||
+ | Of Basil-tufts in Florence; for it drew | ||
+ | Nurture besides, and life, from human fears, | ||
+ | From the fast mouldering head there shut from view: | ||
+ | So that the jewel, safely casketed, | ||
+ | Came forth, and in perfumed leafits spread. | ||
+ | |||
+ | LV. | ||
+ | O Melancholy, linger here awhile! | ||
+ | O Music, Music, breathe despondingly! | ||
+ | O Echo, Echo, from some sombre isle, | ||
+ | Unknown, Lethean, sigh to us--O sigh! | ||
+ | Spirits in grief, lift up your heads, and smile; | ||
+ | Lift up your heads, sweet Spirits, heavily, | ||
+ | And make a pale light in your cypress glooms, | ||
+ | Tinting with silver wan your marble tombs. | ||
+ | |||
+ | LVI. | ||
+ | Moan hither, all ye syllables of woe, | ||
+ | From the deep throat of sad Melpomene! | ||
+ | Through bronzed lyre in tragic order go, | ||
+ | And touch the strings into a mystery; | ||
+ | Sound mournfully upon the winds and low; | ||
+ | For simple Isabel is soon to be | ||
+ | Among the dead: She withers, like a palm | ||
+ | Cut by an Indian for its juicy balm. | ||
+ | |||
+ | LVII. | ||
+ | O leave the palm to wither by itself; | ||
+ | Let not quick Winter chill its dying hour!-- | ||
+ | It may not be--those Baalites of pelf, | ||
+ | Her brethren, noted the continual shower | ||
+ | From her dead eyes; and many a curious elf, | ||
+ | Among her kindred, wonder' | ||
+ | Of youth and beauty should be thrown aside | ||
+ | By one mark'd out to be a Noble' | ||
+ | |||
+ | LVIII. | ||
+ | And, furthermore, | ||
+ | Why she sat drooping by the Basil green, | ||
+ | And why it flourish' | ||
+ | Greatly they wonder' | ||
+ | They could not surely give belief, that such | ||
+ | A very nothing would have power to wean | ||
+ | Her from her own fair youth, and pleasures gay, | ||
+ | And even remembrance of her love's delay. | ||
+ | |||
+ | LIX. | ||
+ | Therefore they watch' | ||
+ | This hidden whim; and long they watch' | ||
+ | For seldom did she go to chapel-shrift, | ||
+ | And seldom felt she any hunger-pain; | ||
+ | And when she left, she hurried back, as swift | ||
+ | As bird on wing to breast its eggs again; | ||
+ | And, patient as a hen-bird, sat her there | ||
+ | Beside her Basil, weeping through her hair. | ||
+ | |||
+ | LX. | ||
+ | Yet they contriv' | ||
+ | And to examine it in secret place: | ||
+ | The thing was vile with green and livid spot, | ||
+ | And yet they knew it was Lorenzo' | ||
+ | The guerdon of their murder they had got, | ||
+ | And so left Florence in a moment' | ||
+ | Never to turn again.--Away they went, | ||
+ | With blood upon their heads, to banishment. | ||
+ | |||
+ | LXI. | ||
+ | O Melancholy, turn thine eyes away! | ||
+ | O Music, Music, breathe despondingly! | ||
+ | O Echo, Echo, on some other day, | ||
+ | From isles Lethean, sigh to us--O sigh! | ||
+ | Spirits of grief, sing not your " | ||
+ | For Isabel, sweet Isabel, will die; | ||
+ | Will die a death too lone and incomplete, | ||
+ | Now they have ta'en away her Basil sweet. | ||
+ | |||
+ | LXII. | ||
+ | Piteous she look'd on dead and senseless things, | ||
+ | Asking for her lost Basil amorously: | ||
+ | And with melodious chuckle in the strings | ||
+ | Of her lorn voice, she oftentimes would cry | ||
+ | After the Pilgrim in his wanderings, | ||
+ | To ask him where her Basil was; and why | ||
+ | 'Twas hid from her: "For cruel ' | ||
+ | "To steal my Basil-pot away from me." | ||
+ | |||
+ | LXIII. | ||
+ | And so she pined, and so she died forlorn, | ||
+ | Imploring for her Basil to the last. | ||
+ | No heart was there in Florence but did mourn | ||
+ | In pity of her love, so overcast. | ||
+ | And a sad ditty of this story born | ||
+ | From mouth to mouth through all the country pass' | ||
+ | Still is the burthen sung--" | ||
+ | "To steal my Basil-pot away from me!" | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 53. To— | < | ||
+ | Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs | ||
+ | Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell, | ||
+ | Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well | ||
+ | Would passion arm me for the enterprise: | ||
+ | But ah! I am no knight whose foeman dies; | ||
+ | No cuirass glistens on my bosom' | ||
+ | I am no happy shepherd of the dell | ||
+ | Whose lips have trembled with a maiden' | ||
+ | Yet must I dote upon thee, | ||
+ | Sweeter by far than Hybla' | ||
+ | When steeped in dew rich to intoxication. | ||
+ | Ah! I will taste that dew, for me 'tis meet, | ||
+ | And when the moon her pallid face discloses, | ||
+ | I'll gather some by spells, and incantation. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 54. To Homer | < | ||
+ | Standing aloof in giant ignorance, | ||
+ | Of thee I hear and of the Cyclades, | ||
+ | As one who sits ashore and longs perchance | ||
+ | To visit dolphin-coral in deep seas. | ||
+ | So thou wast blind;--but then the veil was rent, | ||
+ | For Jove uncurtain' | ||
+ | And Neptune made for thee a spumy tent, | ||
+ | And Pan made sing for thee his forest-hive; | ||
+ | Aye on the shores of darkness there is light, | ||
+ | And precipices show untrodden green, | ||
+ | There is a budding morrow in midnight, | ||
+ | There is a triple sight in blindness keen; | ||
+ | Such seeing hadst thou, as it once befel | ||
+ | To Dian, Queen of Earth, and Heaven, and Hell. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 55. Answer To A Sonnet By J.H.Reynolds | < | ||
+ | "Dark eyes are dearer far | ||
+ | Than those that mock the hyacinthine bell." | ||
+ | |||
+ | Blue! 'Tis the life of heaven, | ||
+ | Of Cynthia, | ||
+ | The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,— | ||
+ | The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun. | ||
+ | Blue! 'Tis the life of waters: | ||
+ | And all its vassal streams, pools numberless, | ||
+ | May rage, and foam, and fret, but never can | ||
+ | Subside, if not to dark-blue nativeness. | ||
+ | Blue! gentle cousin of the forest-green, | ||
+ | Married to green in all the sweetest flowers— | ||
+ | Forget-me-not, | ||
+ | Of secrecy, the violet: what strange powers | ||
+ | Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great, | ||
+ | When in an Eye thou art alive with fate! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 56. Written On The Day That Mr Leigh Hunt Left Prison | < | ||
+ | What though, for showing truth to flattered state, | ||
+ | Kind Hunt was shut in prison, yet has he, | ||
+ | In his immortal spirit, been as free | ||
+ | As the sky-searching lark, and as elate. | ||
+ | Minion of grandeur! think you he did wait? | ||
+ | Think you he nought but prison-walls did see, | ||
+ | Till, so unwilling, thou unturnedst the key? | ||
+ | Ah, no! far happier, nobler was his fate! | ||
+ | In Spenser' | ||
+ | Culling enchanted flowers; and he flew | ||
+ | With daring Milton through the fields of air: | ||
+ | To regions of his own his genius true | ||
+ | Took happy flights. Who shall his fame impair | ||
+ | When thou art dead, and all thy wretched crew? | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 57. Lines On The Mermaid Tavern | < | ||
+ | Souls of Poets dead and gone, | ||
+ | What Elysium have ye known, | ||
+ | Happy field or mossy cavern, | ||
+ | Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? | ||
+ | Have ye tippled drink more fine | ||
+ | Than mine host's Canary wine? | ||
+ | Or are fruits of Paradise | ||
+ | Sweeter than those dainty pies | ||
+ | Of venison? O generous food! | ||
+ | Drest as though bold Robin Hood | ||
+ | Would, with his maid Marian, | ||
+ | Sup and bowse from horn and can. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I have heard that on a day | ||
+ | Mine host's sign-board flew away, | ||
+ | Nobody knew whither, till | ||
+ | An astrologer' | ||
+ | To a sheepskin gave the story, | ||
+ | Said he saw you in your glory, | ||
+ | Underneath a new old sign | ||
+ | Sipping beverage divine, | ||
+ | And pledging with contented smack | ||
+ | The Mermaid in the Zodiac. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Souls of Poets dead and gone, | ||
+ | What Elysium have ye known, | ||
+ | Happy field or mossy cavern, | ||
+ | Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 58. To One Who Has Been Long In City Pent | < | ||
+ | To one who has been long in city pent, | ||
+ | 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair | ||
+ | And open face of heaven,--to breathe a prayer | ||
+ | Full in the smile of the blue firmament. | ||
+ | Who is more happy, when, with heart' | ||
+ | Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair | ||
+ | Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair | ||
+ | And gentle tale of love and languishment? | ||
+ | Returning home at evening, with an ear | ||
+ | Catching the notes of Philomel, | ||
+ | Watching the sailing cloudlet' | ||
+ | He mourns that day so soon has glided by: | ||
+ | E'en like the passage of an angel' | ||
+ | That falls through the clear ether silently. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 59. This Living Hand | < | ||
+ | This living hand, now warm and capable | ||
+ | Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold | ||
+ | And in the icy silence of the tomb, | ||
+ | So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights | ||
+ | That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood | ||
+ | So in my veins red life might stream again, | ||
+ | And thou be conscience-calmed - see here it is - | ||
+ | I hold it towards you. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 60. A Thing of Beauty (Endymion) | < | ||
+ | A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: | ||
+ | Its lovliness increases; it will never | ||
+ | Pass into nothingness; | ||
+ | A bower quiet for us, and a sleep | ||
+ | Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. | ||
+ | Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing | ||
+ | A flowery band to bind us to the earth, | ||
+ | Spite of despondence, | ||
+ | Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, | ||
+ | Of all the unhealthy and o' | ||
+ | Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, | ||
+ | Some shape of beauty moves away the pall | ||
+ | From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, | ||
+ | Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon | ||
+ | For simple sheep; and such are daffodils | ||
+ | With the green world they live in; and clear rills | ||
+ | That for themselves a cooling covert make | ||
+ | ' | ||
+ | Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: | ||
+ | And such too is the grandeur of the dooms | ||
+ | We have imagined for the mighty dead; | ||
+ | An endless fountain of immortal drink, | ||
+ | Pouring unto us from the heaven' | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 61. How Many Bards Gild The Lapses Of Time! | < | ||
+ | How many bards gild the lapses of time! | ||
+ | A few of them have ever been the food | ||
+ | Of my delighted fancy,—I could brood | ||
+ | Over their beauties, earthly, or sublime: | ||
+ | And often, when I sit me down to rhyme, | ||
+ | These will in throngs before my mind intrude: | ||
+ | But no confusion, no disturbance rude | ||
+ | Do they occasion; 'tis a pleasing chime. | ||
+ | So the unnumbered sounds that evening store; | ||
+ | The songs of birds—the whispering of the leaves— | ||
+ | The voice of waters—the great bell that heaves | ||
+ | With solemn sound, | ||
+ | That distance of recognizance bereaves, | ||
+ | Makes pleasing music, and not wild uproar. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 62. To John Hamilton Reynolds | < | ||
+ | O that a week could be an age, and we | ||
+ | Felt parting and warm meeting every week, | ||
+ | Then one poor year a thousand years would be, | ||
+ | The flush of welcome ever on the cheek: | ||
+ | So could we live long life in little space, | ||
+ | So time itself would be annihilate, | ||
+ | So a day's journey in oblivious haze | ||
+ | To serve ourjoys would lengthen and dilate. | ||
+ | O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind! | ||
+ | To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant! | ||
+ | In little time a host of joys to bind, | ||
+ | And keep our souls in one eternal pant! | ||
+ | This morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught | ||
+ | Me how to harbour such a happy thought. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 63. To Ailsa Rock | < | ||
+ | Hearken, thou craggy ocean-pyramid, | ||
+ | Give answer by thy voice—the sea-fowls' | ||
+ | When were thy shoulders mantled in huge streams? | ||
+ | When from the sun was thy broad forehead hid? | ||
+ | How long is't since the mighty Power bid | ||
+ | Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams— | ||
+ | Sleep in the lap of thunder or sunbeams— | ||
+ | Or when grey clouds are thy cold coverlid! | ||
+ | Thou answer' | ||
+ | Thy life is but two dead eternities, | ||
+ | The last in air, the former in the deep! | ||
+ | First with the whales, last with the eagle-skies! | ||
+ | Drowned wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep, | ||
+ | Another cannot wake thy giant-size! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 64. Written Before Re-Reading King Lear | < | ||
+ | O golden-tongued Romance with serene lute! | ||
+ | Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away! | ||
+ | Leave melodizing on this wintry day, | ||
+ | Shut up thine olden pages, and be mute. | ||
+ | Adieu! for once again the fierce dispute | ||
+ | Betwixt damnation and impassioned clay | ||
+ | Must I burn through; once more humbly assay | ||
+ | The bitter-sweet of this Shakespearian fruit. | ||
+ | Chief Poet! and ye clouds of Albion, | ||
+ | Begetters of our deep eternal theme, | ||
+ | When through the old oak Forest I am gone, | ||
+ | Let me not wander in a barren dream, | ||
+ | But when I am consumed in the Fire, | ||
+ | Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 65. Written On A Blank Space At The End Of Chaucer' | ||
+ | This pleasant tale is like a little copse: | ||
+ | The honied lines so freshly interlace, | ||
+ | To keep the reader in so sweet a place, | ||
+ | So that he here and there full-hearted stops; | ||
+ | And oftentimes he feels the dewy drops | ||
+ | Come cool and suddenly against his face, | ||
+ | And, by the wandering melody, may trace | ||
+ | Which way the tender-legged linnet hops. | ||
+ | Oh! what a power has white Simplicity! | ||
+ | What mighty power has this gentle story! | ||
+ | I, that do ever feel athirst for glory, | ||
+ | Could at this moment be content to lie | ||
+ | Meekly upon the grass, as those whose sobbings | ||
+ | Were heard of none beside the mournful robins. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 66. Written On A Blank Space At The End Of Chaucer' | ||
+ | This pleasant tale is like a little copse: | ||
+ | The honied lines so freshly interlace, | ||
+ | To keep the reader in so sweet a place, | ||
+ | So that he here and there full-hearted stops; | ||
+ | And oftentimes he feels the dewy drops | ||
+ | Come cool and suddenly against his face, | ||
+ | And, by the wandering melody, may trace | ||
+ | Which way the tender-legged linnet hops. | ||
+ | Oh! what a power has white Simplicity! | ||
+ | What mighty power has this gentle story! | ||
+ | I, that do ever feel athirst for glory, | ||
+ | Could at this moment be content to lie | ||
+ | Meekly upon the grass, as those whose sobbings | ||
+ | Were heard of none beside the mournful robins. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 67. To Haydon | < | ||
+ | Haydon! forgive me that I cannot speak | ||
+ | Definitively of these mighty things; | ||
+ | Forgive me, that I have not eagle' | ||
+ | That what I want I know not where to seek, | ||
+ | And think that I would not be over-meek, | ||
+ | In rolling out upfollowed thunderings, | ||
+ | Even to the steep of Heliconian springs, | ||
+ | Were I of ample strength for such a freak. | ||
+ | Think, too, that all these numbers should be thine; | ||
+ | Whose else? In this who touch thy vesture' | ||
+ | For, when men stared at what was most divine | ||
+ | With brainless idiotism and o' | ||
+ | Thou hadst beheld the full Hesperian shine | ||
+ | Of their star in the east, and gone to worship them! | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 68. To G.A.W. | < | ||
+ | Nymph of the downward smile and sidelong glance! | ||
+ | In what diviner moments of the day | ||
+ | Art thou most lovely? | ||
+ | Into the labyrinths of sweet utterance, | ||
+ | Or when serenely wandering in a trance | ||
+ | Of sober thought? Or when starting away, | ||
+ | With careless robe to meet the morning ray, | ||
+ | Thou sparest the flowers in thy mazy dance? | ||
+ | Haply 'tis when thy ruby lips part sweetly, | ||
+ | And so remain, because thou listenest: | ||
+ | But thou to please wert nurtured so completely | ||
+ | That I can never tell what mood is best; | ||
+ | I shall as soon pronounce which Grace more neatly | ||
+ | Trips it before Apollo than the rest. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 69. Give Me Women, Wine, and Snuff | < | ||
+ | GIVE me women, wine, and snuff | ||
+ | Untill I cry out "hold, enough!" | ||
+ | You may do so sans objection | ||
+ | Till the day of resurrection: | ||
+ | For, bless my beard, they aye shall be | ||
+ | My beloved Trinity. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 70. His Last Sonnet | < | ||
+ | Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art! - | ||
+ | Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, | ||
+ | And watching, with eternal lids apart, | ||
+ | Like Nature' | ||
+ | The moving waters at their priestlike task | ||
+ | Of pure ablution round earth' | ||
+ | Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask | ||
+ | Of snow upon the mountains and the moors - | ||
+ | No -yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, | ||
+ | Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast, | ||
+ | To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, | ||
+ | Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, | ||
+ | Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, | ||
+ | And so live ever -or else swoon to death. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 71. Last Sonnet | < | ||
+ | BRIGHT Star, would I were steadfast as thou art-- | ||
+ | Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, | ||
+ | And watching, with eternal lids apart, | ||
+ | Like Nature' | ||
+ | The moving waters at their priest-like task | ||
+ | Of pure ablution round earth' | ||
+ | Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask | ||
+ | Of snow upon the mountains and the moors-- | ||
+ | No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, | ||
+ | Pillow' | ||
+ | To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, | ||
+ | Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, | ||
+ | Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, | ||
+ | And so live ever--or else swoon to death. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 72. Fancy | < | ||
+ | Ever let the Fancy roam, | ||
+ | Pleasure never is at home: | ||
+ | At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, | ||
+ | Like to bubbles when rain pelteth; | ||
+ | Then let winged Fancy wander | ||
+ | Through the thought still spread beyond her: | ||
+ | Open wide the mind's cage-door, | ||
+ | She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar. | ||
+ | O sweet Fancy! let her loose; | ||
+ | Summer' | ||
+ | And the enjoying of the Spring | ||
+ | Fades as does its blossoming; | ||
+ | Autumn' | ||
+ | Blushing through the mist and dew, | ||
+ | Cloys with tasting: What do then? | ||
+ | Sit thee by the ingle, when | ||
+ | The sear faggot blazes bright, | ||
+ | Spirit of a winter' | ||
+ | When the soundless earth is muffled, | ||
+ | And the caked snow is shuffled | ||
+ | From the ploughboy' | ||
+ | When the Night doth meet the Noon | ||
+ | In a dark conspiracy | ||
+ | To banish Even from her sky. | ||
+ | Sit thee there, and send abroad, | ||
+ | With a mind self-overaw' | ||
+ | Fancy, high-commission' | ||
+ | She has vassals to attend her: | ||
+ | She will bring, in spite of frost, | ||
+ | Beauties that the earth hath lost; | ||
+ | She will bring thee, all together, | ||
+ | All delights of summer weather; | ||
+ | All the buds and bells of May, | ||
+ | From dewy sward or thorny spray; | ||
+ | All the heaped Autumn' | ||
+ | With a still, mysterious stealth: | ||
+ | She will mix these pleasures up | ||
+ | Like three fit wines in a cup, | ||
+ | And thou shalt quaff it:--thou shalt hear | ||
+ | Distant harvest-carols clear; | ||
+ | Rustle of the reaped corn; | ||
+ | Sweet birds antheming the morn: | ||
+ | And, in the same moment, hark! | ||
+ | 'Tis the early April lark, | ||
+ | Or the rooks, with busy caw, | ||
+ | Foraging for sticks and straw. | ||
+ | Thou shalt, at one glance, behold | ||
+ | The daisy and the marigold; | ||
+ | White-plum' | ||
+ | Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst; | ||
+ | Shaded hyacinth, alway | ||
+ | Sapphire queen of the mid-May; | ||
+ | And every leaf, and every flower | ||
+ | Pearled with the self-same shower. | ||
+ | Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep | ||
+ | Meagre from its celled sleep; | ||
+ | And the snake all winter-thin | ||
+ | Cast on sunny bank its skin; | ||
+ | Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see | ||
+ | Hatching in the hawthorn-tree, | ||
+ | When the hen-bird' | ||
+ | Quiet on her mossy nest; | ||
+ | Then the hurry and alarm | ||
+ | When the bee-hive casts its swarm; | ||
+ | Acorns ripe down-pattering, | ||
+ | While the autumn breezes sing. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Oh, sweet Fancy! let her loose; | ||
+ | Every thing is spoilt by use: | ||
+ | Where' | ||
+ | Too much gaz'd at? Where' | ||
+ | Whose lip mature is ever new? | ||
+ | Where' | ||
+ | Doth not weary? Where' | ||
+ | One would meet in every place? | ||
+ | Where' | ||
+ | One would hear so very oft? | ||
+ | At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth | ||
+ | Like to bubbles when rain pelteth. | ||
+ | Let, then, winged Fancy find | ||
+ | Thee a mistress to thy mind: | ||
+ | Dulcet-ey' | ||
+ | Ere the God of Torment taught her | ||
+ | How to frown and how to chide; | ||
+ | With a waist and with a side | ||
+ | White as Hebe' | ||
+ | Slipt its golden clasp, and down | ||
+ | Fell her kirtle to her feet, | ||
+ | While she held the goblet sweet | ||
+ | And Jove grew languid.--Break the mesh | ||
+ | Of the Fancy' | ||
+ | Quickly break her prison-string | ||
+ | And such joys as these she'll bring.-- | ||
+ | Let the winged Fancy roam, | ||
+ | Pleasure never is at home. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 73. Fill For Me A Brimming Bowl | < | ||
+ | Fill for me a brimming bowl | ||
+ | And in it let me drown my soul: | ||
+ | But put therein some drug, designed | ||
+ | To Banish Women from my mind: | ||
+ | For I want not the stream inspiring | ||
+ | That fills the mind with--fond desiring, | ||
+ | But I want as deep a draught | ||
+ | As e'er from Lethe' | ||
+ | From my despairing heart to charm | ||
+ | The Image of the fairest form | ||
+ | That e'er my reveling eyes beheld, | ||
+ | That e'er my wandering fancy spell' | ||
+ | In vain! away I cannot chace | ||
+ | The melting softness of that face, | ||
+ | The beaminess of those bright eyes, | ||
+ | That breast--earth' | ||
+ | My sight will never more be blest; | ||
+ | For all I see has lost its zest: | ||
+ | Nor with delight can I explore, | ||
+ | The Classic page, or Muse's lore. | ||
+ | Had she but known how beat my heart, | ||
+ | And with one smile reliev' | ||
+ | I should have felt a sweet relief, | ||
+ | I should have felt ``the joy of grief.'' | ||
+ | Yet as the Tuscan mid the snow | ||
+ | Of Lapland dreams on sweet Arno, | ||
+ | Even so for ever shall she be | ||
+ | The Halo of my Memory. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 74. To Byron | < | ||
+ | Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody! | ||
+ | Attuning still the soul to tenderness, | ||
+ | As if soft Pity, with unusual stress, | ||
+ | Had touch' | ||
+ | Hadst caught the tones, nor suffer' | ||
+ | O' | ||
+ | Delightful: thou thy griefs dost dress | ||
+ | With a bright halo, shining beamily, | ||
+ | As when a cloud the golden moon doth veil, | ||
+ | Its sides are ting'd with a resplendent glow, | ||
+ | Through the dark robe oft amber rays prevail, | ||
+ | And like fair veins in sable marble flow; | ||
+ | Still warble, dying swan! still tell the tale, | ||
+ | The enchanting tale, the tale of pleasing woe. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 75. Ode to Fanny | < | ||
+ | Physician Nature! Let my spirit blood! | ||
+ | O ease my heart of verse and let me rest; | ||
+ | Throw me upon thy Tripod, till the flood | ||
+ | Of stifling numbers ebbs from my full breast. | ||
+ | A theme! a theme! great nature! give a theme; | ||
+ | Let me begin my dream. | ||
+ | I come -- I see thee, as thou standest there, | ||
+ | Beckon me not into the wintry air. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ah! dearest love, sweet home of all my fears, | ||
+ | And hopes, and joys, and panting miseries, -- | ||
+ | To-night, if I may guess, thy beauty wears | ||
+ | A smile of such delight, | ||
+ | As brilliant and as bright, | ||
+ | As when with ravished, aching, vassal eyes, | ||
+ | Lost in soft amaze, | ||
+ | I gaze, I gaze! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Who now, with greedy looks, eats up my feast? | ||
+ | What stare outfaces now my silver moon! | ||
+ | Ah! keep that hand unravished at the least; | ||
+ | Let, let, the amorous burn -- | ||
+ | But pr' | ||
+ | The current of your heart from me so soon. | ||
+ | O! save, in charity, | ||
+ | The quickest pulse for me. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Save it for me, sweet love! though music breathe | ||
+ | Voluptuous visions into the warm air; | ||
+ | Though swimming through the dance' | ||
+ | Be like an April day, | ||
+ | Smiling and cold and gay, | ||
+ | A temperate lilly, temperate as fair; | ||
+ | Then, Heaven! there will be | ||
+ | A warmer June for me. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Why, this, you'll say, my Fanny! is not true: | ||
+ | Put your soft hand upon your snowy side, | ||
+ | Where the heart beats: confess -- 'tis nothing new -- | ||
+ | Must not a woman be | ||
+ | A feather on the sea, | ||
+ | Sway'd to and fro by every wind and tide? | ||
+ | Of as uncertain speed | ||
+ | As blow-ball from the mead? | ||
+ | |||
+ | I know it -- and to know it is despair | ||
+ | To one who loves you as I love, sweet Fanny! | ||
+ | Whose heart goes fluttering for you every where, | ||
+ | Nor, when away you roam, | ||
+ | Dare keep its wretched home, | ||
+ | Love, love alone, his pains severe and many: | ||
+ | Then, loveliest! keep me free, | ||
+ | From torturing jealousy. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ah! if you prize my subdued soul above | ||
+ | The poor, the fading, brief, pride of an hour; | ||
+ | Let none profane my Holy See of love, | ||
+ | Or with a rude hand break | ||
+ | The sacramental cake: | ||
+ | Let none else touch the just new-budded flower; | ||
+ | If not -- may my eyes close, | ||
+ | Love! on their lost repose. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 76. Where' | ||
+ | Where' | ||
+ | Muses nine! that I may know him. | ||
+ | 'Tis the man who with a man | ||
+ | Is an equal, be he King, | ||
+ | Or poorest of the beggar-clan | ||
+ | Or any other wonderous thing | ||
+ | A man may be 'twixt ape and Plato; | ||
+ | 'Tis the man who with a bird, | ||
+ | Wren or Eagle, finds his way to | ||
+ | All its instincts; he hath heard | ||
+ | The Lion's roaring, and can tell | ||
+ | What his horny throat expresseth, | ||
+ | And to him the Tiger' | ||
+ | Come articulate and presseth | ||
+ | Or his ear like mother-tongue. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 77. Stanzas | < | ||
+ | IN a drear-nighted December, | ||
+ | Too happy, happy tree, | ||
+ | Thy branches ne'er remember | ||
+ | Their green felicity: | ||
+ | The north cannot undo them, | ||
+ | With a sleety whistle through them; | ||
+ | Nor frozen thawings glue them | ||
+ | From budding at the prime. | ||
+ | |||
+ | In a drear-nighted December, | ||
+ | Too happy, happy brook, | ||
+ | Thy bubblings ne'er remember | ||
+ | Apollo' | ||
+ | But with a sweet forgetting, | ||
+ | They stay their crystal fretting, | ||
+ | Never, never petting | ||
+ | About the frozen time. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Ah! would 'twere so with many | ||
+ | A gentle girl and boy! | ||
+ | But were there ever any | ||
+ | Writhed not at passed joy? | ||
+ | To know the change and feel it, | ||
+ | When there is none to heal it, | ||
+ | Nor numbed sense to steal it, | ||
+ | Was never said in rhyme. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 78. Song of the Indian Maid, from ' | ||
+ | wooer from the clouds, | ||
+ | But hides and shrouds | ||
+ | Beneath dark palm-trees by a river side? | ||
+ | |||
+ | And as I sat, over the light blue hills | ||
+ | There came a noise of revellers: the rills | ||
+ | Into the wide stream came of purple hue-- | ||
+ | 'Twas Bacchus and his crew! | ||
+ | The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills | ||
+ | From kissing cymbals made a merry din-- | ||
+ | 'Twas Bacchus and his kin! | ||
+ | Like to a moving vintage down they came, | ||
+ | Crown' | ||
+ | All madly dancing through the pleasant valley, | ||
+ | To scare thee, Melancholy! | ||
+ | O then, O then, thou wast a simple name! | ||
+ | And I forgot thee, as the berried holly | ||
+ | By shepherds is forgotten, when in June | ||
+ | Tall chestnuts keep away the sun and moon:-- | ||
+ | I rush'd into the folly! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Within his car, aloft, young Bacchus stood, | ||
+ | Trifling his ivy-dart, in dancing mood, | ||
+ | With sidelong laughing; | ||
+ | And little rills of crimson wine imbrued | ||
+ | His plump white arms and shoulders, enough white | ||
+ | For Venus' pearly bite; | ||
+ | And near him rode Silenus on his ass, | ||
+ | Pelted with flowers as he on did pass | ||
+ | Tipsily quaffing. | ||
+ | |||
+ | ' | ||
+ | So many, and so many, and such glee? | ||
+ | Why have ye left your bowers desolate, | ||
+ | Your lutes, and gentler fate?' | ||
+ | 'We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing, | ||
+ | A-conquering! | ||
+ | Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide, | ||
+ | We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide:-- | ||
+ | Come hither, lady fair, and joined be | ||
+ | To our wild minstrelsy!' | ||
+ | |||
+ | ' | ||
+ | So many, and so many, and such glee? | ||
+ | Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left | ||
+ | Your nuts in oak-tree cleft?' | ||
+ | 'For wine, for wine we left our kernel tree; | ||
+ | For wine we left our heath, and yellow brooms, | ||
+ | And cold mushrooms; | ||
+ | For wine we follow Bacchus through the earth; | ||
+ | Great god of breathless cups and chirping mirth! | ||
+ | Come hither, lady fair, and joined be | ||
+ | To our mad minstrelsy!' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Over wide streams and mountains great we went, | ||
+ | And, save when Bacchus kept his ivy tent, | ||
+ | Onward the tiger and the leopard pants, | ||
+ | With Asian elephants: | ||
+ | Onward these myriads--with song and dance, | ||
+ | With zebras striped, and sleek Arabians' | ||
+ | Web-footed alligators, crocodiles, | ||
+ | Bearing upon their scaly backs, in files, | ||
+ | Plump infant laughers mimicking the coil | ||
+ | Of seamen, and stout galley-rowers' | ||
+ | With toying oars and silken sails they glide, | ||
+ | Nor care for wind and tide. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Mounted on panthers' | ||
+ | From rear to van they scour about the plains; | ||
+ | A three days' journey in a moment done; | ||
+ | And always, at the rising of the sun, | ||
+ | About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn, | ||
+ | On spleenful unicorn. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown | ||
+ | Before the vine-wreath crown! | ||
+ | I saw parch' | ||
+ | To the silver cymbals' | ||
+ | I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce | ||
+ | Old Tartary the fierce! | ||
+ | The kings of Ind their jewel-sceptres vail, | ||
+ | And from their treasures scatter pearled hail; | ||
+ | Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans, | ||
+ | And all his priesthood moans, | ||
+ | Before young Bacchus' | ||
+ | Into these regions came I, following him, | ||
+ | Sick-hearted, | ||
+ | To stray away into these forests drear, | ||
+ | Alone, without a peer: | ||
+ | And I have told thee all thou mayest hear. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Young Stranger! | ||
+ | I've been a ranger | ||
+ | In search of pleasure throughout every clime; | ||
+ | Alas! 'tis not for me! | ||
+ | Bewitch' | ||
+ | To lose in grieving all my maiden prime. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Come then, Sorrow, | ||
+ | Sweetest Sorrow! | ||
+ | Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast: | ||
+ | I thought to leave thee, | ||
+ | And deceive thee, | ||
+ | But now of all the world I love thee best. | ||
+ | |||
+ | There is not one, | ||
+ | No, no, not one | ||
+ | But thee to comfort a poor lonely maid; | ||
+ | Thou art her mother, | ||
+ | And her brother, | ||
+ | Her playmate, and her wooer in the shade. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 79. Song of the Indian Maid, from ' | ||
+ | O SORROW! | ||
+ | Why dost borrow | ||
+ | The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?-- | ||
+ | To give maiden blushes | ||
+ | To the white rose bushes? | ||
+ | Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips? | ||
+ | |||
+ | O Sorrow! | ||
+ | Why dost borrow | ||
+ | The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye? | ||
+ | To give the glow-worm light? | ||
+ | Or, on a moonless night, | ||
+ | To tinge, on siren shores, the salt sea-spry? | ||
+ | |||
+ | O Sorrow! | ||
+ | Why dost borrow | ||
+ | The mellow ditties from a mourning tongue?-- | ||
+ | To give at evening pale | ||
+ | Unto the nightingale, | ||
+ | That thou mayst listen the cold dews among? | ||
+ | |||
+ | O Sorrow! | ||
+ | Why dost borrow | ||
+ | Heart' | ||
+ | A lover would not tread | ||
+ | A cowslip on the head, | ||
+ | Though he should dance from eve till peep of day-- | ||
+ | Nor any drooping flower | ||
+ | Held sacred for thy bower, | ||
+ | Wherever he may sport himself and play. | ||
+ | |||
+ | To Sorrow | ||
+ | I bade good morrow, | ||
+ | And thought to leave her far away behind; | ||
+ | But cheerly, cheerly, | ||
+ | She loves me dearly; | ||
+ | She is so constant to me, and so kind: | ||
+ | I would deceive her | ||
+ | And so leave her, | ||
+ | But ah! she is so constant and so kind. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Beneath my palm-trees, by the river side, | ||
+ | I sat a-weeping: in the whole world wide | ||
+ | There was no one to ask me why I wept,-- | ||
+ | And so I kept | ||
+ | Brimming the water-lily cups with tears | ||
+ | Cold as my fears. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Beneath my palm-trees, by the river side, | ||
+ | I sat a-weeping: what enamour' | ||
+ | Cheated by shadowy wooer from the clouds, | ||
+ | But hides and shrouds | ||
+ | Beneath dark palm-trees by a river side? | ||
+ | |||
+ | And as I sat, over the light blue hills | ||
+ | There came a noise of revellers: the rills | ||
+ | Into the wide stream came of purple hue-- | ||
+ | 'Twas Bacchus and his crew! | ||
+ | The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills | ||
+ | From kissing cymbals made a merry din-- | ||
+ | 'Twas Bacchus and his kin! | ||
+ | Like to a moving vintage down they came, | ||
+ | Crown' | ||
+ | All madly dancing through the pleasant valley, | ||
+ | To scare thee, Melancholy! | ||
+ | O then, O then, thou wast a simple name! | ||
+ | And I forgot thee, as the berried holly | ||
+ | By shepherds is forgotten, when in June | ||
+ | Tall chestnuts keep away the sun and moon:-- | ||
+ | I rush'd into the folly! | ||
+ | |||
+ | Within his car, aloft, young Bacchus stood, | ||
+ | Trifling his ivy-dart, in dancing mood, | ||
+ | With sidelong laughing; | ||
+ | And little rills of crimson wine imbrued | ||
+ | His plump white arms and shoulders, enough white | ||
+ | For Venus' pearly bite; | ||
+ | And near him rode Silenus on his ass, | ||
+ | Pelted with flowers as he on did pass | ||
+ | Tipsily quaffing. | ||
+ | |||
+ | ' | ||
+ | So many, and so many, and such glee? | ||
+ | Why have ye left your bowers desolate, | ||
+ | Your lutes, and gentler fate?' | ||
+ | 'We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing, | ||
+ | A-conquering! | ||
+ | Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide, | ||
+ | We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide:-- | ||
+ | Come hither, lady fair, and joined be | ||
+ | To our wild minstrelsy!' | ||
+ | |||
+ | ' | ||
+ | So many, and so many, and such glee? | ||
+ | Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left | ||
+ | Your nuts in oak-tree cleft?' | ||
+ | 'For wine, for wine we left our kernel tree; | ||
+ | For wine we left our heath, and yellow brooms, | ||
+ | And cold mushrooms; | ||
+ | For wine we follow Bacchus through the earth; | ||
+ | Great god of breathless cups and chirping mirth! | ||
+ | Come hither, lady fair, and joined be | ||
+ | To our mad minstrelsy!' | ||
+ | |||
+ | Over wide streams and mountains great we went, | ||
+ | And, save when Bacchus kept his ivy tent, | ||
+ | Onward the tiger and the leopard pants, | ||
+ | With Asian elephants: | ||
+ | Onward these myriads--with song and dance, | ||
+ | With zebras striped, and sleek Arabians' | ||
+ | Web-footed alligators, crocodiles, | ||
+ | Bearing upon their scaly backs, in files, | ||
+ | Plump infant laughers mimicking the coil | ||
+ | Of seamen, and stout galley-rowers' | ||
+ | With toying oars and silken sails they glide, | ||
+ | Nor care for wind and tide. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Mounted on panthers' | ||
+ | From rear to van they scour about the plains; | ||
+ | A three days' journey in a moment done; | ||
+ | And always, at the rising of the sun, | ||
+ | About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn, | ||
+ | On spleenful unicorn. | ||
+ | |||
+ | I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown | ||
+ | Before the vine-wreath crown! | ||
+ | I saw parch' | ||
+ | To the silver cymbals' | ||
+ | I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce | ||
+ | Old Tartary the fierce! | ||
+ | The kings of Ind their jewel-sceptres vail, | ||
+ | And from their treasures scatter pearled hail; | ||
+ | Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans, | ||
+ | And all his priesthood moans, | ||
+ | Before young Bacchus' | ||
+ | Into these regions came I, following him, | ||
+ | Sick-hearted, | ||
+ | To stray away into these forests drear, | ||
+ | Alone, without a peer: | ||
+ | And I have told thee all thou mayest hear. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Young Stranger! | ||
+ | I've been a ranger | ||
+ | In search of pleasure throughout every clime; | ||
+ | Alas! 'tis not for me! | ||
+ | Bewitch' | ||
+ | To lose in grieving all my maiden prime. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Come then, Sorrow, | ||
+ | Sweetest Sorrow! | ||
+ | Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast: | ||
+ | I thought to leave thee, | ||
+ | And deceive thee, | ||
+ | But now of all the world I love thee best. | ||
+ | |||
+ | There is not one, | ||
+ | No, no, not one | ||
+ | But thee to comfort a poor lonely maid; | ||
+ | Thou art her mother, | ||
+ | And her brother, | ||
+ | Her playmate, and her wooer in the shade. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 80. Keen, Fitful Gusts are Whisp' | ||
+ | Keen, fitful gusts are whisp' | ||
+ | Among the bushes half leafless, and dry; | ||
+ | The stars look very cold about the sky, | ||
+ | And I have many miles on foot to fare. | ||
+ | Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air, | ||
+ | Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily, | ||
+ | Or of those silver lamps that burn on high, | ||
+ | Or of the distance from home's pleasant lair: | ||
+ | For I am brimfull of the friendliness | ||
+ | That in a little cottage I have found; | ||
+ | Of fair-hair' | ||
+ | And all his love for gentle Lycid drown' | ||
+ | Of lovely Laura in her light green dress, | ||
+ | And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown' | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 81. To Mrs Reynolds' | ||
+ | < | ||
+ | How many mice and rats hast in thy days | ||
+ | Destroy’d? | ||
+ | With those bright languid segments green, and prick | ||
+ | Those velvet ears - but pr’ythee do not stick | ||
+ | Thy latent talons in me - and upraise | ||
+ | Thy gentle mew - and tell me all thy frays, | ||
+ | Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick. | ||
+ | Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists - | ||
+ | For all thy wheezy asthma - and for all | ||
+ | Thy tail’s tip is nick’d off - and though the fists | ||
+ | Of many a maid have given thee many a maul, | ||
+ | Still is that fur as soft, as when the lists | ||
+ | In youth thou enter’dest on glass bottled wall. </ | ||
+ | ++++ 82. Fragment of an Ode to Maia | < | ||
+ | MOTHER of Hermes! and still youthful Maia! | ||
+ | May I sing to thee | ||
+ | As thou wast hymned on the shores of Baiae? | ||
+ | Or may I woo thee | ||
+ | In earlier Sicilian? or thy smiles | ||
+ | Seek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles, | ||
+ | By bards who died content on pleasant sward, | ||
+ | Leaving great verse unto a little clan? | ||
+ | O give me their old vigour! and unheard | ||
+ | Save of the quiet primrose, and the span | ||
+ | Of heaven, and few ears, | ||
+ | Rounded by thee, my song should die away | ||
+ | Content as theirs, | ||
+ | Rich in the simple worship of a day. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 83. Lines from Endymion | < | ||
+ | A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: | ||
+ | Its loviliness increases; it will never | ||
+ | Pass into nothingness; | ||
+ | A bower quiet for us, and a sleep | ||
+ | Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. | ||
+ | Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing | ||
+ | A flowery band to bind us to the earth, | ||
+ | Spite of despondance, | ||
+ | Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, | ||
+ | Of all the unhealthy and o`er-darkened ways | ||
+ | Made for our searching: yes, inspite of all, | ||
+ | Some shape of beauty moves away the pall | ||
+ | From our dark spirits. | ||
+ | </ | ||
+ | ++++ 84. Bards of Passion and of Mirth, written on the Blank Page before Beaumont and Fletcher' | ||
+ | BARDS of Passion and of Mirth, | ||
+ | Ye have left your souls on earth! | ||
+ | Have ye souls in heaven too, | ||
+ | Doubled-lived in regions new? | ||
+ | Yes, and those of heaven commune | ||
+ | With the spheres of sun and moon; | ||
+ | With the noise of fountains wondrous, | ||
+ | And the parle of voices thund' | ||
+ | With the whisper of heaven' | ||
+ | And one another, in soft ease | ||
+ | Seated on Elysian lawns | ||
+ | Browsed by none but Dian's fawns; | ||
+ | Underneath large blue-bells tented, | ||
+ | Where the daisies are rose-scented, | ||
+ | And the rose herself has got | ||
+ | Perfume which on earth is not; | ||
+ | Where the nightingale doth sing | ||
+ | Not a senseless, tranced thing, | ||
+ | But divine melodious truth; | ||
+ | Philosophic numbers smooth; | ||
+ | Tales and golden histories | ||
+ | Of heaven and its mysteries. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Thus ye live on high, and then | ||
+ | On the earth ye live again; | ||
+ | And the souls ye left behind you | ||
+ | Teach us, here, the way to find you, | ||
+ | Where your other souls are joying, | ||
+ | Never slumber' | ||
+ | Here, your earth-born souls still speak | ||
+ | To mortals, of their little week; | ||
+ | Of their sorrows and delights; | ||
+ | Of their passions and their spites; | ||
+ | Of their glory and their shame; | ||
+ | What doth strengthen and what maim. | ||
+ | Thus ye teach us, every day, | ||
+ | Wisdom, though fled far away. | ||
+ | |||
+ | Bards of Passion and of Mirth, | ||
+ | Ye have left your souls on earth! | ||
+ | Ye have souls in heaven too, | ||
+ | Double-lived in regions new! | ||
+ | </ | ||