Of the reeds, and I turn'd and look'd round in the night
Of new sunshine, and saw, as I sipp'd of the light
Narrow-winking, the realized nymph of the stream,
Rising up from the wave with the bend and the gleam
Of a fountain, and o'er her white arms she kept throwing
Bright torrents of hair, that went flowing and flowing
In falls to her feet, and the blue waters roll'd
Down her limbs like a garment, in many a fold,
Sun-spangled, gold-broider'd, and fled far behind,
Like an infinite train. So she came and reclin'd
In the reeds, and I hunger'd to see her unseal
The buds of her eyes that would ope and reveal

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
Like a mist, and then flew to her waters and lay
In love-patience long hours, and sore dazzled her eyes
In watching for mine 'gainst the midsummer skies.
But now they were heal'd, -O my heart, it still dances
When I think of the charm of her changeable glances,
And my image how small when it sank in the deep
Of her eyes where her soul was,

weep,

Alas! now they

And none knoweth where. In what stream do her

eyes

Shed invisible tears? Who beholds where her sighs
Flow in eddies, or sees the ascent of the leaf

She has pluck'd with her tresses? Who listens her grief
Like a far fall of waters, or hears where her feet
Grow emphatic among the loose pebbles, and beat
Them together? Ah! surely her flowers float adown
To the sea unaccepted, and little ones drown

For need of her mercy, -even he whose twin-brother
Will miss him for ever; and the sorrowful mother
Imploreth in vain for his body to kiss

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
Was sad,—and the bend of their brows,—and their cries
Were seen, but I heard not. The warm touch of tears
Travell'd down my cold cheeks, and I shook till my fears
Awaked me, and lo! I was couch'd in a bower,

The growth of long summers rear'd up in an hour!
Then I said, in the fear of my dream, I will fly
From this magic, but could not, because that my eye
Grew love-idle among the rich blooms; and the earth
Held me down with its coolness of touch, and the mirth
Of some bird was above me, who, even in fear,
Would startle the thrush? and methought there drew near
A form as of Ægle, — but it was not the face

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