Of the reeds, and I turn'd and look'd round in the night The blue that was in them; and they ope'd, and she rais'd Two orbs of pure crystal, and timidly gazed With her eyes on my eyes; but their colour and shine Was of that which they look'd on, and mostly of mine For she loved me, sank, -except when she blush'd, and they Shame-humbled, to number the stones on the bank, Or her play-idle fingers, while lisping she told me How she put on her veil, and in love to behold me, Would wing through the sun till she fainted away weep, Alas! now they And none knoweth where. In what stream do her eyes Shed invisible tears? Who beholds where her sighs She has pluck'd with her tresses? Who listens her grief For need of her mercy, -even he whose twin-brother And cling to, all dripping and cold as it is, Because that soft pity is lost in hard pain! We loved,-how we loved! -for I thought not again K Of the woes that were whisper'd like fears in that place If I gave me to beauty. Her face was the face Far away, and her eyes were the eyes that were drown'd For my absence, her arms were the arms that sought round, And clasp'd me to nought; for I gazed and became Only true to my falsehood, and had but one name For two loves, and call'd ever on Ægle, sweet maid Of the sky-loving waters, and was not afraid Thus our bliss had endured for a time-shorten'd space, Like a day made of three, and the smile of her face Had been with me for joy,-when she told me indeed Her love was self-task'd with a work that would need Some short hours, for in truth 'twas the veriest pity Our love should not last, and then sang me a ditty, Of one with warm lips that should love her, and love her When suns were burnt dim and long ages past over. So she fled with her voice, and I patiently nested My limbs in the reeds, in still quiet, and rested Till my thoughts grew extinct, and I sank in a sleep Of dreams, but their meaning was hidden too deep To be read what their woe was ;-but still it was woe That was writ on all faces that swam to and fro In that river of night; and the gaze of their eyes The growth of long summers rear'd up in an hour! Hope made, and I knew the witch-Queen of that place, Even Circe the Cruel, that came like a Death Which I fear'd, and yet fled not, for want of my breath. There was thought in her face, and her eyes were not raised From the grass at her foot, but I saw, as I gazed, Her spite and her countenance changed with her mind As she plann'd how to thrall me with beauty, and bind My soul to her charms, and her long tresses play'd From shade into shine and from shine into shade, Like a day in mid-autumn, first fair, O how fair! With long snaky locks of the adderblack hair That clung round her neck, those dark locks that I prize, For the sake of a maid that once loved me with eyes Of that fathomless hue, but they changed as they roll'd, - And brighten'd, and suddenly blazed into gold That she comb'd into flames, and the locks that fell down Turn'd dark as they fell, but I slighted their brown, Nor loved, till I saw the light ringlets shed wild, That innocence wears when she is but a child; And her eyes,-O I ne'er had been witch'd with their shine, Had they been any other, my Ægle, than thine! Then I gave me to magic, and gazed till I madden'd In the full of their light,—but I sadden'd and sadden'd |