O't was a cruel thing."-" Now thou dost taunt 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 "T is almost death to hear: 0 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 show 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 honey'd wings: and thou shouldst please Thyself to choose the richest, where we might Be incense-pillow'd every summer night. 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-" At this, sudden fell Those two sad streams adown a fearful dell. The Latmian listen'd, but he heard no more, Save echo, faint repeating o'er and o'er The name of Arethusa. On the verge Of that dark gulf 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'd-there was a whelming sound-he stept, 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.
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'd Fire-branded foxes to sear up and singe
Our gold and ripe-ear'd hopes. With not one tinge 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, they proudly mount To their spirit's perch, their being's high account, Their tiptop nothings, their dull skies, their thrones- Amid the fierce intoxicating tones
Of trumpets, shoutings, and belabour'd drums, 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, unconfined, Can make a ladder of the eternal wind, And poise about in cloudy thunder-tents To watch the abysm-birth of elements. Ay, 'bove the withering of old-lipp'd Fate 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 minist'ring 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 everywhere, with silver lip Kissing dead things to life. The sleeping kine, Couch'd 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, one little spot 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 her forehead's cumbrous load.
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's eye, Or, what a thing is love! 'T is She, but lo! How changed, how full of ache, how gone in woe! She dies at the thinnest cloud; her loveliness Is wan on Neptune's blue: yet there's a stress
Of love-spangles, just off yon cape of trees, 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'erwhelming water-courses; scaring out The thorny sharks from hiding-holes, and fright'ning Their savage eyes with unaccustom'd lightning. Where will the splendour 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 't is won. Amid his toil thou gavest 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'd With lily shells, and pebbles milky white, Poor Cynthia greeted him, and soothed her light Against his pallid face: he felt the charm
To breathlessness, and suddenly a warm
Of his heart's blood: 't was very sweet; he stay'd His wandering steps, and half-entranced laid His head upon a tuft of straggling weeds, To taste the gentle moon, and freshening beads, Lash'd from the crystal roof by fishes' tails. And so he kept, until the rosy veils Mantling the east, by Aurora's peering hand Were lifted from the water's breast, and fann'd Into sweet air; and sober'd morning came Meekly through billows :-when like taper-flame Left sudden by a dallying breath of air,
He rose in silence, and once more 'gan fare Along his fated way.
With nothing save the hollow vast, that foam'd Above, around, and at his feet; save things More dead than Morpheus' imaginings :
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