And I see nature through her death-deep eyes,
And know the glorious mysteries of the grave,
Which, through extremes of blissful passion's life,
Methought I saw. Oh, wherefore am I blind?

'Abandon all such hopes of Meropè,'

Murmured the Great Unmoved: 'her truth was strong,
First to herself, and through herself to thee,
While that it lasted; but that's done and gone.
How should she love a giant who is blind
And sees no beauty but the secret heart
Panting in darkness? That is not her world?
Orion rose erect. She is not false-
Although she may forget. I will go forth :
I may find aid, or cause some help to come
That shall restore my sight.' The sage replied,
'Thou 'st seen enough already, and too much
For happiness. This passion prematurely
Endeth; and therefore endeth as seems best,
Ere it wear out itself with languor and pain,
Or prostrate all thy mind to its small use
Far worse, methinks.' 'Hast thou,' Orion cried,
'No impulses desires
no promptings kind?'
The sage his memory tasked; then slow replied:
'Once I gave water to a thirsty plant :

'T was a weak moment with us both.

Next morn

It craved the like but I, for "Nature" calling, Passed on. It drooped then died, and rotted soon,

And living things, more highly organized,

With quick eyes and fine horns, reproached my hand Which had delayed their birth. What wrong we do By interfering with life's balanced plan!

Do nothing wait - and all that must come, comes !' Silent awhile they stood. Orion sighed,

'I know thy words are wise—' and went his way.

SUNRISE.

FROM BOOK III., CANTO II.

O'ER meadows green or solitary lawn, When birds appear earth's sole inhabitants, The long clear shadows of the morning differ From those of eve, which are more soft and vague, Touched with old day-dreams and a mellowed grief. The lights of morning, even as her shades,

Are architectural, and pre-eminent

In quiet freshness, midst the pause that holds

Prelusive energies. All life awakes,

Morn comes at first with white uncertain light;
Then takes a faint red, like an opening bud

Seen through gray mist: the mist clears off; the sky
Unfolds; grows ruddy; takes a crimson flush;
Puts forth bright sprigs of gold, which soon expanding
In saffron, thence pure golden shines the morn;
Uplifts its clear bright fabric of white clouds,
All tinted like a shell of polished pearl,
With varied glancings, violet gleam and blush;
Embraces Nature; and then passes on,
Leaving the sun to perfect his great work.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF AKINETOS.

FROM BOOK III., CANTO III.

SLOW tow'rds his cave the Great Unmoved repaired, And, with his back against the rock, sat down Outside, half-smiling in the pleasant air;

And in the lonely silence of the place

He thus, at length, discoursed unto himself:

'Orion, ever active and at work,

Honest and skilful, not to be surpassed,

Drew misery on himself and those he loved;

Wrought his companion's death, — and now hath found,
At Artemis' hand, his own. So fares it ever

With the world's builder. He from wall to beam,
From pillar to roof, from shade to corporal form,
From the first vague Thought to the Temple vast,
A ceaseless contest with the crowd endures,
For whom he labors. Why then should we move?
Our wisdom cannot change whate'er 's decreed,
Nor e'en the acts or thoughts of brainless men:
Why then be moved? Best reason is most vain.
He who will do and suffer, must and end.
Hence death is not an evil since it leads
To somewhat permanent, beyond the noise
Man maketh on the tabor of his will,

Until the small round burst, and pale he falls.
His ear is stuffed with the grave's earth, yet feels
The inaudible whispers of Eternity,

While Time runs shouting to Oblivion
In the upper fields! I would not swell that cry.'

HAJARLIS.

A tragic ballad, set to an old Arabian air.

I LOVED Hajarlis and was loved

Both children of the Desert, we;
And deep as were her lustrous eyes,
My image ever could I see.

And in my heart she also shone,
As doth a star above a well;
And we each other's thoughts enjoyed,
As camels listen to a bell.

A Sheik unto Hajarlis came,

And said, 'Thy beauty fires my dreams!

Young Ornab spurn

- fly to my tent

So shalt thou walk in golden beams.'

But from the Sheik my maiden turned,
And he was wroth with her, and me;
Hajarlis down a pit was lowered,

And I was fastened to a tree.

Nor bread, nor water, had she there;
But oft a slave would come and go;
O'er the pit bent he, muttering words,—
And aye took back the unvarying 'No!'

The simoom came with sullen glare!

Breathed Desert-mysteries through my tree!

I only heard the starving sighs

From that pit's mouth unceasingly.

Day after day-night after night-
Hajarlis' famished moans I hear!
And then I prayed her to consent

For my sake, in my wild despair.

Calm strode the Sheik - looked down the pit,
And said, 'Thy beauty now is gone:

Thy last moans will thy lover hear,

While thy slow torments feed my scorn.'

They spared me that I still might know

Her thirst and frenzy - till at last

The pit was silent! - and I felt

Her life and mine

were with the past!

A friend, that night, cut through my bonds:

The Sheik amidst his camels slept ;

We fired his tent, and drove them in

And then with joy I screamed and wept.

And cried, 'A spirit comes arrayed,

From that dark pit, in golden beams! Thy slaves are fled — thy camels mad Hajarlis once more fires thy dreams!'

The camels blindly trod him down,

While still we drove them o'er his bed; Then with a stone I beat his breast,

As I would smite him ten times dead!

I dragged him far out on the sands

And vultures came - a screaming shoal! And while they fanged and flapped, I prayed Great Allah to destroy his soul!

And day and night again I sat

Above that pit, and thought I heard

Hajarlis' moans

and cried 'my love!'

With heart still breaking at each word.

Is it the night-breeze in my ear,

That woos me like a fanning dove?

Is it herself? O, desert-sands,

Enshroud me ever with thy love!

THE LAUREL-SEED.

"Marmora findit."

A DESPOT gazed on sun-set clouds,
Then sank to sleep amidst the gleam;
Forthwith, a myriad starving slaves
Must realize his lofty dream.

Year upon year, all night and day,

They toiled, they died - and were replaced;

At length, a marble fabric rose

With cloud-like domes and turrets graced.