XXXIV.

"But wouldst thou hear the melodies of Time,

Listen when sleep and drowsy darkness roll

Over hush'd cities, and the midnight chime

Sounds from their hundred clocks, and deep bells toll Like a last knell over the dead world's soul,

Saying, Time shall be final of all things,

Whose late, last voice must elegise the whole, —

O then I clap aloft my brave broad wings,
And make the wide air tremble while it rings!"

XXXV.

Then next a fair Eve-Fay made meek address,
Saying, "We be the handmaids of the Spring,
In sign whereof, May, the quaint broideress,
Hath wrought her samplers on our gauzy wing.
We tend upon buds' birth and blossoming,
And count the leafy tributes that they owe
As, so much to the earth so much to fling

In showers to the brook so much to go

In whirlwinds to the clouds that made them grow.

XXXVI.

"The pastoral cowslips are our little pets,
And daisy stars, whose firmament is green;
Pansies, and those veil'd nuns, meek violets,
Sighing to that warm world from which they screen;
And golden daffodils, pluck'd for May's Queen ;
And lonely harebells, quaking on the heath;

And Hyacinth, long since a fair youth seen,

Whose tuneful voice, turn'd fragrance in his breath, Kiss'd by sad Zephyr, guilty of his death.

XXXVII.

"The widow'd primrose weeping to the moon,

And saffron crocus in whose chalice bright

A cool libation hoarded for the noon

Is kept and she that purifies the light,

The virgin lily, faithful to her white,
Whereon Eve wept in Eden for her shame;
And the most dainty rose, Aurora's spright,
Our every godchild, by whatever name

Spare us our lives, for we did nurse the same!"

XXXVIII.

Then that old Mower stamp'd his heel, and struck

His hurtful scythe against the harmless ground,
Saying, "Ye foolish imps, when am I stuck
With gaudy buds, or like a wooer crown'd

With flow'ry chaplets, save when they are found

Wither'd? Whenever have I pluck'd a rose,

Except to scatter its vain leaves around?
For so all gloss of beauty I oppose,

And bring decay on every flow'r that blows.

XXXIX.

"Or when am I so wroth as when I view

The wanton pride of Summer; - how she decks

The birth-day world with blossoms ever new,

As if Time had not lived, and heap'd great wrecks

Of years on years? O then I bravely vex

And catch the gay Months in their gaudy plight,

And slay them with the wreaths about their necks,

Like foolish heifers in the holy rite,

And raise great trophies to my ancient might."

XL.

Then saith another, "We are kindly things,

And like her offspring nestle with the dove, —
Witness these hearts embroider'd on our wings,
To show our constant patronage of love:
We sit at even, in sweet bow'rs above
Lovers, and shake rich odours on the air,
To mingle with their sighs; and still remove
The startling owl, and bid the bat forbear
Their privacy, and haunt some other where.

XLI.

"And we are near the mother when she sits

Beside her infant in its wicker bed;

And we are in the fairy scene that flits

Across its tender brain: sweet dreams we shed,

And whilst the tender little soul is fled
Away, to sport with our young elves, the while
We touch the dimpled cheek with roses red,

And tickle the soft lips until they smile,
So that their careful parents they beguile.

XLII.

"O then, if ever thou hast breathed a vow

At Love's dear portal, or at pale moon-rise
Crush'd the dear curl on a regardful brow
That did not frown thee from thy honey prize-
If ever thy sweet son sat on thy thighs,

And wooed thee from thy careful thoughts within
To watch the harmless beauty of his eyes,
Or glad thy fingers on his smooth soft skin,

For Love's dear sake, let us thy pity win!"

XLIII.

Then Saturn fiercely thus:

"What joy have I

In tender babes, that have devour'd mine own,

Whenever to the light I heard them cry,

Till foolish Rhea cheated me with stone?
Whereon, till now, is my great hunger shown,
In monstrous dints of my enormous tooth;

And, but the peopled world is too full grown For hunger's edge, I would consume all youth At one great meal, without delay or ruth!