Falling asleep in a half-dream! To dream and dream, like yonder amber light, Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; To hear each other's whisper'd speech; Eating the Lotus day by day, To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, To the influence of mild-minded melancholy; Heap'd over with a mound of grass, Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass! 6. Dear is the memory of our wedded lives, And dear the last embraces of our wives And their warm tears: but all hath suffer'd change; Let what is broken so remain. The Gods are hard to reconcile : Long labor unto aged breath, Sore task to hearts worn out by many wars And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars. 7. But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly, How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly) With half-dropt eyelids still, Beneath a heaven dark and holy, To watch the long bright river drawing slowly His waters from the purple hill — To hear the dewy echoes calling From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine - To watch the emerald-color❜d water falling Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine ! 8. The Lotus blooms below the barren peak: The Lotus blows by every winding creek : All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone: Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotus-dust is blown. We have had enough of action, and of motion we, Roll'd to starboard, roll'd to larboard, when the surge was seething free, Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea. Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind, On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world: Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands. But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell, A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN. I READ, before my eyelids dropt their shade, Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath The spacious times of great Elizabeth And, for a while, the knowledge of his art Held me above the subject, as strong gales Hold swollen clouds from raining, tho' my heart, Brimful of those wild tales, Charged both mine eyes with tears. In every land Those far-renowned brides of ancient song Peopled the hollow dark, like burning stars, And I heard sounds of insult, shame, and wrong, And trumpets blown for wars; And clattering flints batter'd with clanging hoofs: And I saw crowds in column'd sanctuaries; And forms that pass'd at windows and on roofs Of marble palaces; Corpses across the threshold; heroes tall Dislodging pinnacle and parapet Upon the tortoise creeping to the wall; And high shrine-doors burst thro' with heated blasts White surf wind-scatter'd over sails and masts, Squadrons and squares of men in brazen plates, So shape chased shape as swift as, when to land I started once, or seem'd to start in pain, Resolved on noble things, and strove to speak As when a great thought strikes along the brain, And flushes all the cheek. And once my arm was lifted to hew down All those sharp fancies, by down-lapsing thought Stream'd onward, lost their edges, and did creep Roll'd on each other, rounded, smooth'd, and brought Into the gulfs of sleep. At last methought that I had wander'd far In an old wood: fresh-wash'd in coolest dew, Enormous elmtree-boles did stoop and lean Their broad curved branches, fledged with clearest green, The dim red morn had died, her journey done, And with dead lips smiled at the twilight plain, Half-fall'n across the threshold of the sun, Never to rise again. There was no motion in the dumb dead air, Gross darkness of the inner sepulchre Is not so deadly still As that wide forest. Growths of jasmine turn'd I knew the flowers, I knew the leaves, I knew The smell of violets, hidden in the green, Pour'd back into my empty soul and frame The times when I remember to have been Joyful and free from blame. And from within me a clear undertone Thrill'd thro' mine ears in that unblissful clime, "Pass freely thro': the wood is all thine own, Until the end of time." At length I saw a lady within call, Stiller than chisell❜d marble, standing there, A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, Her loveliness with shame and with surprise Froze my swift speech: she turning on my face The star-like sorrows of immortal eyes, Spoke slowly in her place. "I had great beauty: ask thou not my name: No one can be more wise than destiny. Many drew swords and died. I brought calamity." Where'er I came "No marvel, sovereign lady: in fair field But she, with sick and scornful looks averse, 66 |