VI. And first the spotted cameleopard came, Of his own volumes intervolved;-all gaunt The brinded lioness led forth her young, That she might teach them how they should forego Their inborn thirst of death; the pard unstrung His sinews at her feet, and sought to know, With looks whose motions spoke without a tongue, How he might be as gentle as the doe. The magic circle of her voice and eyes All savage natures did imparadise. VIII. And old Silenus, shaking a green stick Of lilies, and the wood-gods in a crew Came, blithe, as in the olive copses thick Cicada are, drunk with the noonday dew: And Driope and Faunus follow'd quick, Teasing the God to sing them something new, Till in this cave they found the lady lone, Sitting upon a seat of emerald stone. IX. And Universal Pan, 'tis said, was there, And though none saw him,-through the adamant Of the deep mountains, through the trackless air, And through those living spirits, like a want He past out of his everlasting lair Where the quick heart of the great world doth pant, And felt that wondrous lady all alone,And she felt him, upon her emerald throne. X. And every nymph of stream and spreading tree, All came, much wondering how the enwombed rocks Could have brought forth so beautiful a birth ;- XI. The herdsmen and the mountain maidens came, And the rude kings of pastoral GaramantThese spirits shook within them, as a flame Stirr'd by the air under a cavern gaunt: Pigmies, and Polyphemes, by many a name, Centaurs and Satyrs, and such shapes as haunt Wet clefts, and lumps neither alive nor dead, Dog-headed, bosom-eyed and bird-footed. XII. For she was beautiful: her beauty made No thought of living spirit could abide, On any object in the world so wide, On any hope within the circling skies, But on her form, and in her inmost eyes XIII. Which when the lady knew, she took her spindle And twined three threads of fleecy mist, and three Long lines of light, such as the dawn may kindle The clouds and waves and mountains with, and she As many star-beams, ere their lamps could dwindle XIV. The deep recesses of her odorous dwelling Were stored with magic treasures-sounds of air Which had the power all spirits of compelling, Folded in cells of crystal silence there; Such as we hear in youth, and think the feeling Will never die-yet ere we are aware, The feeling and the sound are fled and gone, And the regret they leave remains alone. XV. And there lay Visions swift, and sweet, and quaint, It is its work to bear to many a saint Whose heart adores the shrine which holiest is, Even Love's-and others white, green, gray, and black, And of all shapes-and each was at her beck. XVI. And odors in a kind of aviary Of ever-blooming Eden-trees she kept, Clipt in a floating net, a love-sick Fairy Had woven from dew-beams while the moon yet slept; As bats at the wired window of a dairy, They beat their vans; and each was an adept, When loosed and mission'd, making wings of winds, To stir sweet thoughts or sad in destined minds. XVII. And liquors clear and sweet, whose healthful might Could medicine the sick soul to happy sleep, And change eternal death into a night Of glorious dreams-or if eyes needs must weep Could make their tears all wonder and delight, She in her crystal vials did closely keep: If men could drink of those clear vials, 'tis said The living were not envied of the dead. She spoke and wept: the dark and azure well Sparkled beneath the shower of her bright tears, And every little circlet where they fell, Flung to the cavern-roof inconstant spheres And intertangled lines of light!-a knell Of sobbing voices came upon her ears All day the wizard lady sat aloof, And others say, that when but three hours old, The first-born Love out of his cradle leapt, And clove dun Chaos with his wings of gold, And like a horticultural adept, Stole a strange seed, and wrapt it up in mould, And sow'd it in his mother's star, and kept Watering it all the summer with sweet dew, And with his wings fanning it as it grew. XXXIII. The plant grew strong and green-the snowy flower Of which Love scoop'd this boat, and with soft motion XXXIV. Couch'd on the fountain like a panther tame, One of the twain at Evan's feet that sit; Or as on Vesta's sceptre a swift flame, Or on blind Homer's heart a winged thought,— In joyous expectation lay the boat. XXXV. Then by strange art she kneaded fire and snow Through which the harmony of love can pass; A living Image, which did far surpass A sexless thing it was, and in its growth In gentleness and strength its limbs were deck'd; The bosom lightly swell'd with its full youth, The countenance was such as might select Some artist that his skill should never die, Imaging forth such perfect purity. XXXVII. From its smooth shoulders hung two rapid wings, She led her creature to the boiling springs Where the light boat was moor'd,-and said"Sit here!" And pointed to the prow, and took her seat XXXVIII. XLI. And ever down the prone vale, like a cloud XLII. And down the earthquaking cataracts which shiver Their snow-like waters into golden air, Or under chasms unfathomable ever Sepulchre them, till in their rage they tear A subterranean portal for the river, It fled the circling sunbows did upbear Its fall down the hoar precipice of spray, Lighting it far upon its lampless way. XLIII. And when the wizard lady would ascend The labyrinths of some many-winding vale, Which to the inmost mountain upward tend She call'd "Hermaphroditus!" and the pale And heavy hue which slumber could extend Over its lips and eyes, as on the gale A rapid shadow from a slope of grass, Into the darkness of the stream did pass. XLIV. And it unfurl'd its Heaven-color'd pinions, XLV. And down the streams which clove those mountains And then it winnow'd the Elysian air vast Around their inland islets, and amid The panther-peopled forests, whose shade cast In melancholy gloom, the pinnace past; Of icy crag cleaving the purple sky, XXXIX. The silver noon into that winding dell, XL. And ever as she went, the Image lay With folded wings and unawaken'd eyes; The busy dreams, as thick as summer flies, Which ever hung about that lady bright, With its ethereal vans-and speeding there, Like a star up the torrent of the night, Or a swift eagle in the morning glare Breasting the whirlwind with impetuous flight; The pinnace, oar'd by those enchanted wings, Clove the fierce streams towards their upper springs XLVI. The water flash'd like sunlight, by the prow In tempest down the mountains,-loosely driven, The lady's radiant hair stream'd to and fro: Indignant and impetuous, roar'd to feel XLVII. Or, when the weary moon was in the wane, His storm-outspeeding wings, th' Hermaphrodite; XLVIII. Canopus and his crew, lay th' Austral lake- XLIX. A haven, beneath whose translucent floor Based on the level waters, to the sky L. And whilst the outer lake beneath the lash Plow'd up the waters, and the flagging wing LI. On which that lady play'd her many pranks, Outspeeds the antelopes which speediest are, LII. And then she call'd out of the hollow turrets On meteor flags; and many a proud pavilion, LIII. LV. These were tame pleasures. She would often climb LVI. And sometimes to those streams of upper air, To let her join their chorus. Mortals found But her choice sport was, in the hours of sleep, Of utmost Axumè, until he spreads, Like a calm flock of silver-fleeced sheep, His waters on the plain: and crested heads LVIII. By Mæris and the Mareotid lakes, Strewn with faint blooms like bridal-chamber floors; Had left on the sweet waters mighty wakes Of those huge forms:- within the brazen doors Of the great Labyrinth slept both boy and beast, Tired with the pomp of their Osirian feast. LIX. And where within the surface of the river Like things which every cloud can doom to die, The works of man pierced that serenest sky LX. They framed the imperial tent of their great Queen With motion like the spirit of that wind LIV. And on a throne o'erlaid with star-light, caught Whose soft step deepens slumber, her light feet LXI. A pleasure sweet doubtless it was to see There, a lone youth who in his dreams did weep In their loose locks which over both did creep Like ivy from one stem-and there lay calm, Old age with snow-bright hair and folded palm. |