Just when the sufferer begins to burn,
Then it is free to him ; and from an urn,
Still fed by melting ice, he takes a draught—
Young Semele such richness never quaff'd
In her maternal longing. Happy gloom!
Dark Paradise! where pale becomes the bloom
Of health by due; where silence dreariest
Is most articulate; where hopes infest;
Where those eyes are the brightest far that keep
Their lids shut longest in a dreamless sleep.
O happy spirit-home! O wondrous soul!
Pregnant with such a den to save the whole
In thine own depth. Hail, gentle Carian!
For, never since thy griefs and woes began,
Hast thou felt so content: a grievous feud
Hath let thee to this Cave of Quietude.
Ay, his lull'd soul was there, although upborne
With dangerous speed: and so he did not mourn
Because he knew not whither he was going.
So happy was he, not the aerial blowing
Of trumpets at clear parley from the east
Could rouse from that fine relish, that high feast.
They stung the feather'd horse; with fierce alarm
He flapped towards the sound. Alas! no charm
Could lift Endymion's head, or he had view'd
A skyey mask, a pinion'd multitude,—
And silvery was its passing: voices sweet
Warbling the while as if to lull and greet
The wanderer in his path. Thus warbled they,
While past the vision went in bright array.

"Who, who from Dian's feast would be away?
For all the golden bowers of the day
Are empty left i Who, who away would be
From Cynthia's wedding and festivity?
Not Hesperus: lo! upon his silver wings
He leans away for highest heaven and sings,
Snapping his lucid fingers merrily!—
Ah, Zephyrus! art here, and Flora too?
Ye tender bibbers of the rain and dew,
Young playmates of the rose and daffodil,
Be careful, ere ye enter in, to fill
Your baskets high

With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines,
Savory, latter-mint, and columbines,
Cool parsley, basil sweet, and sunny thyme;
Yea, every flower and leaf of every clime,
All gather'd in the dewy morning: hie

Away! fly, fly!—
Crystalline brother of the belt of heaven,
Aquarius! to whom king Jove has given
Two liquid pulse streams 'stead of feather'd wings,
Two fanlike fountains,—thine iUuminings

For Dian play:
Dissolve the frozen purity of air;
Let thy white shoulders silvery and bare
Show cold through watery pinions; make more bright
The Star-Queen's crescent on her marriage night:

Haste, haste away!
Castor has tamed the planet Lion, see!
And of the Bear has Pollux mastery:
A third is in the race! who is the third,
Speeding away swift as the eagle bird?

The ramping Centaur!
The Lion's mane 's on end : the Bear how fierce!
The Centaur's arrow ready seems to pierce
Some enemy: far forth his bow is bent
Into the blue of heaven. He'll be shent,

Pale unrelentor,
When he shall hear the wedding lutes a playing.—
Andromeda! sweet woman! why delaying
So timidly among the stars: come hither!
Join this bright throng, and nimbly follow whither

They all are going.
Danae's Son, before Jove newly bow'd,
Has wept for thee, calling to Jove aloud.
Thee, gentle lady, did he disenthral:
Ye shall for ever live and love, for all

Thy tears are flowing.—
By Daphne's fright, behold Apollo !"—

Endymion heard not: down his steed him bore,
Prone to the green head of a misty hill.

His first touch of the earth went nigh to kill. "Alas!" said he, "were I but always borne Through dangerous winds, had but my footsteps worn

A path in hell, for ever would I bless

Horrors which nourish an uneasiness

For my own sullen conquering ; to him

Who lives beyond earth's boundary, grief is dim,

Sorrow is but a shadow: now I see

The grass; I feel the solid ground—Ah, me!

It is thy voice—divinest! Where ?—who? who

Left thee so quiet on this bed of dew?

Behold upon this happy earth we are;

Let us aye love each other; let us fare

On forest-fruits, and never, never go

Among the abodes of mortals here below,

Or be by phantoms duped. O destiny!

Into a labyrinth now my soul would fly,

But with thy beauty will I deaden it.

Where didst thou melt to? By thee will I sit

For ever: let our fate stop here—a kid

I on this spot will offer: Pan will bid

Us live in peace, in love and peace among

His forest wildernesses. I have clung

To nothing, loved a nothing, nothing seen

Or felt but a great dream ! Oh, I have been

Presumptuous against love, against the sky,

Against all elements, against the tie

Of mortals each to each, against the blooms

Of flowers, rush of rivers, and the tombs

Of heroes gone! Against his proper glory

Has my own soul conspired : so my story

Will I to children utter, and repent.

There never lived a mortal man, who bent

His appetite beyond his natural sphere,

But starved and died. My sweetest Indian, here,

Here will I kneel, for thou redeemed hast

My life from too thin breathing : gone and past

Are cloudy phantasms. Caverns lone, farewell!

And air of visions, and the monstrous swell

Of visionary seas! No, never more

Shall airy voices cheat me to the shore

Of tangled wonder, breathless and aghast.

Adieu, my daintiest Dream ! although so vast

My love is still for thee. The hour may come

When we shall meet in pure elysium.

On earth I may not love thee ; and therefore

Doves will I offer up, and sweetest store

All through the teeming year: so thou wilt shine

On me, and on this damsel fair of mine,

And bless our simple lives. My Indian bliss!

My river-lily bud ! one human kiss!

One sigh of real breath—one gentle squeeze,

Warm as a dove's nest among summer trees,

And warm with dew at ooze from living blood!

Whither didst melt? Ah, what of thatI.- all good

We'll talk about—no more of dreaming.—Now,

Where shall our dwelling be? Under the brow

Of some steep mossy hill, where ivy dun

Would hide us up, although spring leaves were none;

And where dark yew-trees, as we rustle through,

Will drop their scarlet-berry cups of dew!

O thou wouldst joy to live in such a place!
Dusk for our loves, yet light enough to grace
Those gentle limbs on mossy bed reclined:
For by one step the blue sky shouldst thou find,
And by another, in deep dell below,

See, through the trees, a little river go

All in its mid-day gold and glimmering.

Honey from out the gnarled hive I 'll bring,

And apples, wan with sweetness, gather thee,—

Cresses that grow where no man may them see,

And sorrel untorn by the dew-claw'd stag:

Pipes will I fashion of the syrinx flag,

That thou mayst always know whither I roam,

When it shall please thee in our quiet home

To listen and think of love. Still let me speak;

Still let me dive into the joy I seek,—

For yet the past doth prison me. The rill,

Thou haply mayst delight in, will I fill

With fairy fishes from the mountain tarn,

And thou shalt feed them from the squirrel's barn.

Its bottom will I strew with amber shells,

And pebbles blue from deep enchanted wells.

Its sides I 'll plant with dew-sweet eglantine,

And honeysuckles full of clear bee-wine.

I will entice this crystal rill to trace
Love's silver name upon the meadow's face.
I 'll kneel to Vesta, for a flame of fire;
And to god Phoebus, for a golden lyre;

To Empress Dian, for a hunting-spear;
To Vesper, for a taper silver-clear,

That I may see thy beauty through the night;

To Flora, and a nightingale shall light

Tame on thy finger ; to the River-gods,

And they shall bring thee taper fishing-rods

Of gold, and lines of naiads' long bright tress.

Heaven shield thee for thine utter loveliness!

Thy mossy footstool shall the altar be

'Fore which I 'll bend, bending, dear love, to thee:

Those lips shall be my Delphos, and shall speak

Laws to my footsteps, colour to my cheek,

Trembling or steadfastness to this same voice,

And of three sweetest pleasurings the choice:

And that affectionate light, those diamond things,

Those eyes, those passions, those supreme pearl springs,

Shall be my grief, or twinkle me to pleasure.

Say, is not bliss within our perfect seizure?

O that I could not doubt!"

The mountaineer
Thus strove by fancies vain and crude to clear
His brier'd path to some tranquillity.
It gave bright gladness to his lady's eye,
And yet the tears she wept were tears of sorrow;
Answering thus, just as the golden morrow
Beam'd upward from the valleys of the east:
"O that the flutter of his heart had ceased,
Or the sweet name of love had pass'd away!
Young feather'd tyrant! by a swift decay
Wilt thou devote this body to the earth:
And I do think that at my very birth

I lisp'd thy blooming titles inwardly;

For at the first, first dawn and thought of thee,

With uplift hands I bless'd the stars of heaven.

Art thou not cruel? Ever have I striven

To think thee kind, but ah, it will not do!

When yet a child, I heard that kisses drew

Favour from thee, and so I kisses gave

To the void air, bidding them find out love:

But when I came to feel how far above

All fancy, pride, and fickle maidenhood,

All earthly pleasure, all imagined good,

Was the warm tremble of a devout kiss,—

Even then that moment, at the thought of this,

Fainting I fell into a bed of flowers,

And languish'd there three days. Ye milder powers,

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