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 down in hell 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 I saw, wherever light illumineth, Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand The downward slope to death. 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: Corpses across the threshold; heroes tall 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, Not any song of bird or sound of rill; 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 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, And most divinely fair. 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 I answer'd free; and turning I appeal'd But she, with sick and scornful looks averse, To her full height her stately stature draws; "My youth," she said, "was blasted with a curse : This woman was the cause. "I was cut off from hope in that sad place, Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears: My father held his hand upon his face; I, blinded with my tears, "Still strove to speak: my voice was thick with sighs As in a dream. Dimly I could descry The stern black-bearded kings with wolfish eyes, "The high masts flicker'd as they lay afloat; The crowds, the temples, waver'd, and the shore, The bright death quiver'd at the victim's throat; Touch'd; and I knew no more." Whereto the other with a downward brow : "I would the white cold heavy-plunging foam, Whirl'd by the wind, had roll'd me deep below, Then when I left my home." Her slow full words sank thro' the silence drear, I turning saw, throned on a flowery rise, One sitting on a crimson scarf unroll'd; She, flashing forth a haughty smile, began. "The ever-shifting currents of the blood 66 Nay- yet it chafes me that I could not bend That dull cold-blooded Cæsar. Where is Mark Antony? |