Oldalképek
PDF

My children fair, my lovely girls and boys!
I will forget them ; I will pass these joys;
Ask nought so heavenward, so too—too high:
Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die,
Or be deliver'd from this cumbrous flesh,
From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh,
And merely given to the cold bleak air.
Have mercy, Goddess ! Circe, feel my prayer!'

"That curst magician's name fell icy numb
Upon my wild conjecturing: truth had come
Naked and sabre-like against my heart.
I saw a fury whetting a death-dart;
And my slain spirit, overwrought with fright,
Fainted away in that dark lair of night.
Think, my deliverer, how desolate
My waking must have been! disgust and hate,
And terrors manifold divided me
A spoil amongst them. I prepared to flee
Into the dungeon core of that wild wood:
I fled three days—when lo! before me stood
Glaring the angry witch. O Dis, even now,
A clammy dew is beading on my brow,
At mere remembering her pale laugh, and curse.
'Ha! ha! Sir Dainty ! there must be a nurse
Made of rose-leaves and thistle-down, express,
To cradle thee, my sweet, and lull thee: yes,
I am too flinty-hard for thy nice touch:
My tenderest squeeze is but a giant's clutch.
So, fairy-thing, it shall have lullabies
Unheard of yet ; and it shall still its cries
Upon some breast more lily-feminine.
Oh, no—it shall not pine, and pine, and pine
More than one pretty, trifling thousand years;
And then 't were pity, but fate's gentle shears
cut short its immortality. Sea-flirt!
Young dove of the waters ! truly I 'll not hurt
One hair of thine : see how I weep and sigh,
That our heart-broken parting is so nigh.
And must we part? Ah, yes, it must be so.
Yet ere thou lea vest me in utter woe,
Let me sob over thee my last adieus,
And speak a blessing: Mark me! thou hast thews

Immortal, for thou art of heavenly race:

But such a love is mine, that here I chase

Eternally away from thee all bloom

Of youth, and destine thee towards a tomb.

Hence shalt thou quickly to the watery vast;

And there, ere many days be overpast,

Disabled age shall seize thee ; and even then

Thou shalt not go the way of aged men;

But live and wither, cripple and still breathe

Ten hundred years: which gone, I then bequeath

Thy fragile bones to unknown burial.

Adieu, sweet love, adieu !'—As shot stars fall,

She fled ere I could groan for mercy. Stung

And poison'd was my spirit: despair sung

A war-song of defiance 'gainst all hell.

A hand was at my shoulder to compel

My sullen steps; another 'fore my eyes

Moved on with pointed finger. In this guise

Enforced, at the last by ocean's foam

I found me ; by my fresh, my native home,

Its tempering coolness, to my life akin,

Came salutary as I waded in;

And, with a blind voluptuous rage, I gave

Battle to the swollen billow-ridge, and drave

Large froth before me, while there yet remain'd

Hale strength, nor from my bones all marrow drain'd.

"Young lover, I must weep—such hellish spite
With dry cheek who can tell? While thus my might
Proving upon this element, dismay'd,
Upon a dead thing's face my hand I laid;
I look'd—'t was Scylla! Cursed, cursed Circe!

O vulture-witch, hast never heard of mercy!
Could not thy harshest vengeance be content,
But thou must nip this tender innocent
Because I loved her %—Cold, O cold indeed
Were her fair limbs, and like a common weed
The sea-swell took her hair. Dead as she was

I clung about her waist, nor ceased to pass
Fleet as an arrow through unfatlioin'd brine,
Until there shone a fabric crystalline,
Ribb'd and inlaid with coral, pebble, and pearl.
Headlong I darted ; at one eager swirl

Gain'd its bright portal, enter'd, and behold!
'T was vast, and desolate, and icy-cold;
And all around—But wherefore this to thee
Who in few minutes more thyself shalt see ?—
I left poor Scylla in a niche and fled.
My fever'd parchings up, my scathing dread
Met palsy half way: soon these limbs became
Gaunt, wither'd, sapless, feeble, cramped, and lame.

"Now let me pass a cruel, cruel space,
Without one hope, without one faintest trace
Of mitigation, or redeeming bubble
Of colour'd phantasy ; for I fear 't would trouble
Thy brain to loss of reason : and next tell
How a restoring chance came down to quell
One half of the witch in me.

"On a day, Sitting upon the rock above the spray, I saw grow up from the horizon's brink A gallant vessel: soon she seem'd to sink Away from me again, as though her course Had been resumed in spite of hindering force— So vanish'd : and not long, before arose Dark clouds, and muttering of winds morose. Old yEolus would stifle his mad spleen, But could not, therefore all the billows green Toss'd up the silver spume against the clouds. The tempest came: I saw that vessel's shrouds In perilous bustle ; while upon the deck Stood trembling creatures. I beheld the wreck; The final gulfing; the poor struggling souls: I heard their cries amid loud thunder-rolls. O they had all been saved but crazed eld Annull'd my vigorous cravings : and thus quell'd And curb'd, think on 't. O Latmian ! did I sit Writhing with pity, and a cursing fit Against that hell-born Circe. The crew had gone, By one and one, to pale oblivion; And I was gazing on the surges prone, With many a scalding tear, and many a groan, When at my feet emerged an old man's hand, Grasping this scroll, and this same slender wand.

I knelt with pain—reached out my hand—had grasp'd

These treasures—touch'd the knuckles—they unclasp'd—

I caught a finger: but the downward weight

O'erpower'd me—it sank. Then 'gan abate

The storm, and through chill aguish gloom outburst

The comfortable sun. I was athirst

To search the book, and in the warming air

Parted its dripping leaves with eager care.

Strange matters did it treat of, and drew on

My soul page after page, till well nigh won

Into forgetfulness; when, stupified,

I read these words, and read again, and tried

My eyes against the heavens, and read again.

O what a load of misery and pain

Each Atlas line bore off!—a shine of hope

Came gold around me, cheering me to cope

Strenuous with hellish tyranny. Attend!

For thou hast brought their promise to an end.

"' In the wide sea there lives a forlorn wretch,
Doom'd with enfeebled carcase to outstretch
His loathed existence through ten centuries,
And then to die alone. Who can devise
A total opposition? No one. So
One million times ocean must ebb and flow,
And he oppressed. Yet he shall not die,

These things accomplish'd: If he utterly

Scans all the depths of magic, and expounds
The meanings of all motions, shapes, and sounds;
If he explores all forms and substances
Straight homeward to their symbol-essences;
He shall not die. Moreover, and in chief,
He must pursue this task of joy and grief
Most piously r- all lovers tempest-tost,
And in the savage overwhelming lost,
He shall deposit side by side, until
Time's creeping shall the dreary space fulfil:
Which done, and all these labours ripened,
A youth, by heavenly power loved and led,
Shall stand before him; whom he shall direct
How to consummate all. The youth elect
( Must do the thing, or both will be destroy'd.'"

"Then," cried the young Endymion, overjoy'd,

"We are twin brothers in this destiny!

Say, I entreat thee, what achievement high

Is, in this restless world, for me reserved.

What! if from thee my wandering feet had swerved,

Had we both perish'd V—" Look !" the sage replied,

"Dost thou not mark a gleaming through the tide,

Of divers brilliances? 't is the edifice

I told thee of, where lovely Scylla lies;

And where I have enshrined piously

All lovers, whom fell storms have doom'd to die

Throughout my bondage." Thus discoursing, on

They went till unobscured the porches shone;

Which hurryingly they gain'd, and enter'd straight.

Sure never since king Neptune held his state

Was seen such wonder underneath the stars.

Turn to some level plain where haughty Mars

Has legion'd all his battle ; and behold

How every soldier, with firm foot, doth hold

His even breast: see, many steeled squares,

And rigid ranks of iron—whence who dares

One step? Imagine further, line by line,

These warrior thousands on the field supine :—

So in that crystal place, in silent rows,

Poor lovers lay at rest from joys and woes.

The stranger from the mountains, breathless, traced

Such thousands of shut eyes in order placed;

Such ranges of white feet, and patient lips

All ruddy,—for here death no blossom nips.

He mark'd their brows and foreheads; saw their hair

Put sleekly on one side with nicest care;

And each one's gentle wrists, with reverence,

Put cross-wise to its heart.

"Let us commence (Whisper'd the guide, stuttering with joy) even now," He spake, and, trembling like an aspen-bough, Began to tear his scroll in pieces small, Uttering the while some mumblings funeral. He tore it into pieces small as snow That drifts unfeather'd when bleak northerns blow; And having done it, took his dark blue cloak And bound it round Endymion: then struck His wand against the empty air times nine. "What more there is to do, young man, is thine:

« ElőzőTovább »