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문학:영문학:영국:키츠 [2023/07/27 02:20] clayeryan@gmail.com [작품목록] |
문학:영문학:영국:키츠 [2025/06/27 16:04] (현재) |
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| 줄 23: | 줄 23: | ||
| Of the wide world I stand alone, and think | Of the wide world I stand alone, and think | ||
| Till love and fame to nothingness do sink | Till love and fame to nothingness do sink | ||
| + | |||
| + | **내가 더 이상 존재하지 않을 수도 있다는 두려움을 가질 때** | ||
| + | |||
| + | 내가 더 이상 존재하지 않을 수도 있다는 두려움을 가질 때 | ||
| + | 내 펜이 나의 넘쳐나는 생각을 수확하기 전에, | ||
| + | 높이 쌓인 책들이 넉넉한 곳간처럼, | ||
| + | 글자로써, | ||
| + | 별빛 박힌 밤하늘에 거대한 구름이 그리는, | ||
| + | 아기자기한 옛 이야기의 상징들을 바라보며, | ||
| + | 타고난 마술의 손으로 그 자취를 찾기 전에 | ||
| + | 행여 내가 죽을지도 모른다는 생각이 들 때, | ||
| + | 또한 한 때 짧은 순간 만났던 아름다운 그대 | ||
| + | 그대 다시는 보지 못하리라 느껴지고 | ||
| + | 분별없는 사랑의 마술도 이제 끝이라고 | ||
| + | 생각되어질 때, 나는 광막한 세계의 | ||
| + | 해변에 외로이 서서 생각에 잠깁니다. | ||
| + | 사랑과 명예가 허무한 것이 될 때까지 | ||
| + | |||
| </ | </ | ||
| ++++ 2. Ode To A Nightingale | | ++++ 2. Ode To A Nightingale | | ||
| 줄 3552: | 줄 3570: | ||
| Losing its gust, and my ambition blind! | Losing its gust, and my ambition blind! | ||
| </ | </ | ||
| - | ++++ 41. Endymion: Book IV | < | + | ++++ 41. Endymion: Book IV | < |
| - | ++++ 42. A Dream, After Reading Dante' | + | Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! |
| - | ++++ 43. Meg Merrilies | < | + | O first-born on the mountains! by the hues |
| - | ++++ 44. Think Of It Not, Sweet One | < | + | Of heaven on the spiritual air begot: |
| - | ++++ 45. Ode To Autumn | < | + | Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot, |
| - | ++++ 46. To The Nile | < | + | While yet our England was a wolfish den; |
| - | ++++ 47. Endymion: Book III | < | + | Before our forests heard the talk of men; |
| - | ++++ 48. Addressed To Haydon | < | + | Before the first of Druids was a child;-- |
| - | ++++ 49. Endymion: Book II | < | + | Long didst thou sit amid our regions wild |
| - | ++++ 50. O Blush Not So! | < | + | Rapt in a deep prophetic solitude. |
| - | ++++ 51. Where Be Ye Going, You Devon Maid? | + | There came an eastern voice of solemn mood:-- |
| - | ++++ 52. Isabella or The Pot of Basil | < | + | Yet wast thou patient. Then sang forth the Nine, |
| - | ++++ 53. To— | < | + | Apollo' |
| - | ++++ 54. To Homer | < | + | Such home-bred glory, that they cry'd in vain, |
| - | ++++ 55. Answer To A Sonnet By J.H.Reynolds | < | + | "Come hither, Sister of the Island!" |
| - | ++++ 56. Written On The Day That Mr Leigh Hunt Left Prison | < | + | Spake fair Ausonia; and once more she spake |
| - | ++++ 57. Lines On The Mermaid Tavern | < | + | A higher summons: |
| - | ++++ 58. To One Who Has Been Long In City Pent | < | + | Thee to thy native hopes. O thou hast won |
| - | ++++ 59. This Living Hand | < | + | A full accomplishment! The thing is done, |
| - | ++++ 60. A Thing of Beauty (Endymion) | < | + | Which undone, these our latter days had risen |
| - | ++++ 61. How Many Bards Gild The Lapses Of Time! | < | + | On barren souls. Great Muse, thou know' |
| - | ++++ 62. To John Hamilton Reynolds | < | + | Of flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets |
| - | ++++ 63. To Ailsa Rock | < | + | Our spirit' |
| - | ++++ 64. Written Before Re-Reading King Lear | < | + | Our pillows; and the fresh to-morrow morn |
| - | ++++ 65. Written On A Blank Space At The End Of Chaucer' | + | Seems to give forth its light in very scorn |
| - | ++++ 66. Written On A Blank Space At The End Of Chaucer' | + | Of our dull, uninspired, snail-paced lives. |
| - | ++++ 67. To Haydon | < | + | Long have I said, how happy he who shrives |
| - | ++++ 68. To G.A.W. | < | + | To thee! But then I thought on poets gone, |
| - | ++++ 69. Give Me Women, Wine, and Snuff | < | + | And could not pray:--nor can I now--so on |
| - | ++++ 70. His Last Sonnet | < | + | I move to the end in lowliness of heart.---- |
| - | ++++ 71. Last Sonnet | < | + | |
| - | ++++ 72. Fancy | < | + | "Ah, woe is me! that I should fondly part |
| - | ++++ 73. Fill For Me A Brimming Bowl | < | + | From my dear native land! Ah, foolish maid! |
| - | ++++ 74. To Byron | < | + | Glad was the hour, when, with thee, myriads bade |
| - | ++++ 75. Ode to Fanny | < | + | Adieu to Ganges and their pleasant fields! |
| - | ++++ 76. Where' | + | To one so friendless the clear freshet yields |
| - | ++++ 77. Stanzas | < | + | A bitter coolness, the ripe grape is sour: |
| - | ++++ 78. Song of the Indian Maid, from ' | + | Yet I would have, great gods! but one short hour |
| - | ++++ 79. Song of the Indian Maid, from ' | + | Of native air--let me but die at home." |
| - | ++++ 80. Keen, Fitful Gusts are Whisp' | + | |
| - | ++++ 81. To Mrs Reynolds' | + | Endymion to heaven' |
| - | ++++ 82. Fragment of an Ode to Maia | < | + | Was offering up a hecatomb of vows, |
| - | ++++ 83. Lines from Endymion | < | + | When these words reach' |
| - | ++++ 84. Bards of Passion and of Mirth, written on the Blank Page before Beaumont and Fletcher' | + | 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! | ||
| + | </ | ||
마지막으로 수정됨: 2025/06/27 16:03
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