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Of happy changes in emphatic dreams,
So she was gently glad to see him laid Uniler her favourite bower's quiet shade, On her own couch, new made of flower leaves, Dried carefully on the cooler side of sheaves When last the sun his autumn tresses shook, And the tann'd barvesters rich armfuls took. Soon was he quieted to slumbrous rest : But, ere it crept upon him, he had presc Peona's busy hand against his lips, And still, a sleeping, held hier finger-tips Jn tender pressure.
And as a willow keeps A patient watch over the stream that creeps Windingly by it, so the quiet maid Held her in peace: so that a whispering blade Of grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling Down in the blue-bells, or a wren light rustling Among sere leaves and twigs, miglit all be heard.
My voice upon the mountain-heights; once more
my horn parley from their foreheads hoar :
Hereat Peona, in their silver source,
'T was a lay
the alders green ; And thal, alas! is death. No, I can trace Something more high perplexing in thy face!»
Endymion look'd at her, and press'd her hand, And said, « Art thou so pale, who wast so bland And merry in our meadows ? How is this? Tell me thine ailment: tell me all amiss ! Ah! thou hast been unhappy at the change Wrought suddenly in me. What indeed more strange? Or more complete to overwhelm surmise ? Ambition is no sluccard: 't is no prize, That toiling years would put within my grasp, That I have sigh'd for : with so deadly gasp No man e'er panted for a mortal love. So all have set my heavier grief above These things which happen. Rightly have they done: I, who still saw the horizontal sun Heave his broad shoulder o'er the edge of the world, Out-facing Lucifer, and then had hurlid My spear aloft, as signal for the chaccI, who, for very sport of heart, would race With my own steed from Araby; pluck down A vulture from his towery perching; frown A lion into growling, loth retireTo lose, at once, all my toil-breeding fire, And sink thus low! but I will case my breast Of secret grief, here in this bowery nest.
• This river does not see the naked sky, Till it begins to progress silverly
O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, Tliat broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth! O unconfined Restraint! imprisoned liberty! great key To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy, Fountains grotesque, new trees, hespangled caves, Echoing grottos, full of tumbling waves And moonlight; aye, to all the mazy world Of silvery enchantment!- who, upfurl'd Bencath thy drowsy wing a triple hour, Bul renovates and lives?—Thus, in the bower, Endymion was calm'd to life again. Opening bis eyelids with a healthier brain, He said : • I feel this thine endearing love All through my bosom : thou art as a dove Trembling its closed eyes and sleeked wings About me; and the pearliest dew not brings Such morning incense from the fields of May, As do those brighter drops that twinkling stray From those kind eyes,-the very home and haunt Of sisterly affection. Can I want Aucht else, aught nearer heaven, than such tears? Yet dry them up, in bidding bence all fears That, any longer, I will pass my days Alone and sad. No, I wili once more raise
Around the western border of the wood,
Speak, stubborn earth, and tell me where, 0 where
Not oat-sheaves drooping in the western sun;
Not-thy soft hand, fair sister! let me shun Had I been used to pass my weary eves ;
Such follying before thee-yet she had, The rather for the sun unwilling leaves
Indeed, locks bright enough to make me mad; So dear a picture of his sovereigo power,
And they were simply gordian'd up and braided, And I could witness his most kingly bour,
Leaving, in naked coineliness, unshaded, When he doth lighten up the golden reins,
Her pearl round ears, white neck, and orbed brow;
The which were blended in, I know not how,
Blush-lipted cheeks, half smiles, and faintest sighs,
That, when I think thereon, my spirit clings Of sacred ditamy, and poppies red :
And plays about its fancy, till the stings At which I wondered greatly, knowing well
Of human neighl:ourhood envenom all. That but one night had wrought this tlowery spell; Unto what awful power shall I call? And, silting down close by, began to muse
To what bigli fanel-Ah! sec her hovering feet, What it might mean. Perhaps, thought I, Morpheus, More bluely vein'd, more soft, more whitely sweet In passing here, his owlet pinions shook;
Than those of sca-born Venus, when she rose Or, it may be, ere matron Night uptook
From out her cridle shell. The wind out-blows Her ebon urn, young Mercury, by stealth,
Her scarf into a fluttering pavilion; Nad dipt his rod in it: such garland wealth
'T is blue, and over-spangled with a million Came not by common growth. Thus on I thought, Of little eyes, as though thou were to shed, Until my head was dizzy and distraught.
Over the darkest, lushest blue-bell bed, Moreover, through the dancing poppies stole
Handfuls of daisies.. Endymion, how strange! A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul;
Dream within dream!. — She took an airy range,
And then, towards me, like a very maid,
Methought I fainted at the charmed touch,
Yet held my recollection, even as one The enchantment that afterwards befel ?
Who dives threc fathoms where the waters run Yet it was but a dream : yet such a dream
Gurgling in beds of coral : for anon, That never tongue, although it overleem
I felt upmounted in that region With mellow utterance, like a cavern spring,
Where falling stars dart their artillery forth, Could figure out and to conception bring
And eagles struggle with the buffering north All U beheld and felt. Methought I lay
That balances the heavy meteor-stone ;Watching the zenith, where the milky way
Felt too, I was not fearful, nor alone, Among the stars in virgin splendour pours ;
But lapp'd and lull'd along the dangerous sky. And travelling my eye, until the doors
Soon, as it seemd, we left our journeying high, Of heaven appear'd to open for my flight,
And straightway into frightful eddies swoopd;
Such as ay muster where grey time has scoop'd
There hollow sounds aroused me, and I sigh'd
To faint once more by looking on my bliss, When, presently, the stars began to glide,
I was distracted; madly did I kiss And faint away, before my eager view:
The wooing arms which held me, and did give At which I sigh'd that I could not pursuc,
My eyes at once to death : but I was to live, And dropt my vision to the horizon's verge;
To take in draughts of life from the gold fount And lo! from opening clouds, I saw einerge
Of kind and passionate looks; 10 count, and count The loveliest moon, that ever silver'd o'er
The moments, by some greedy help that seem'd A shell for Neptune's goblet; she did soar
A second self, that each might be redeem'd So passionately bright, my dazzled soul
And plunder'd of its load of blessedness. Commingling with her argent spheres did roll
Al, desperate mortal! I ev'n dared to press Through clear and cloudly, even when she went
very check against my crowned lip, At last into a dark and vapoury tent
And, at that momeni, felt my body dip Whereat, methought, the lidless-eyed train
Into a warmer air: a moment more,
Our feet were soft in flowers. There was store
A scent of violets, and blossoming limes,
Loiter'd around us; then of honey cells, Making me quickly veil my eyes and face:
Made delicate from all white-llower bells; Again I look'd, and, O ye deities,
And once, above the edges of our nest, Who from Olympus watch our destinies !
An arch face peep'd,
,-an Oread as I guess d. Whence that completed form of all completeness !
Why did I dream that sleep o'er-power'd me Whence came that high perfection of all sweetness ?
In midst of all this heaven? Why not see,
Far off, the shadows of his pinions dark,
Among the winds at large-that all may hearken!
Thus ended he, and both Sat silent: for the maid was very loch To answer; feeling well that breathed words Would all be lost, unheard, and vain as swords Against the enchased crocodile, or leaps Of grasshoppers against the sun. She weeps, And wonders; struggles to devise some blame; To put on such a look as would say, Shame On this poor weakness! but, for all her strife, She could as soon have crush'd away the life from a sick dove. At length, to break the pause, She said with trembling chance : « Is this the cause ? This all? Yet it is strange, and sad, alas! That one who through this middle earth should pass Most like a sojourning demi-god, and leave His name upon the barp-string, should achieve No higher bard than simple maidenhood, Singing alone, and fearfully,-how the blood Left his young cheek; and how he used to stray He knew not where; and how he would say, nay, If any said 't was love: and yet 't was love; What could it be but love? How a ring-dove Let fall a sprig of yew-tree in his path; And how he died : and then, that love doth scathe, The gentle heart, as northern blasts do roses; And then the ballad of his sad life closes With sighs, and an alas !-Endymion! Be rather in the trumpet's mouth,-anon
« Peona! ever have I long'd to slake My thirst for the world's praises : nothing base, No merely slumberous phantasm, could unlace The stubborn canvas for my voyage prepared Though now' is tatter'd; leaving my bark bared And sullenly drifting : yet my higher hope Is of too wide, too rainbow-large a scope, To fret at myriads of earthly wrecks. Wherein lies bappiness? In that which becks Our ready minds to fellowship divine, A fellowship with essence; till we shine, Full alchemized, and free of The clear religion of heaven! Fold A rose leaf round thy finger's ta perness, And soothe thy lips : hist! when the airy stress Of music's kiss impregnates the free winds, And with a sympathetic touch unbinds Eolian magic from their lucid wombs: Then old songs waken from enclouded tombs; Old ditties sigh above their father's grave; Ghosts of melodious prophecyings rave Round every spot where trod Apollo's foot; Bronze clarions awake, and faintly bruit, Where long ago a giant battle was; And, from the turf, a lullaby doth pass Jn
every place where infant Orpheus slept. Feel we these things!--that moment have we stept Into a sort of oneness, and our state Is like a floating spirit's. But there are Richer entanglements, entbralments far More self-destroying, leading, by degrees, To the chief intensity: the crown of these is made of love and friendslıip, and sits high Upon the forehead of humanity.
All its more ponderous and bulky worth
And spreaded tail, a vulture could not glide Is friendship, whence there ever issues forth
Past them, but he must brush on every side. A steady splendour; but at the tip-top,
Some moulder'd steps lead into this cool cell, There hangs by unseen ilm, an orbcd drop
Far as the slabbed margin of a well, Of light, and that is love : its influence
Whose patient level peeps its crystal eye Thrown in our eyes, genders a novel sense,
Right upward, through the bushes, to the sky. At which we start and fret; till in the end,
Oft have I brought thee flowers, on their stalks set Melting into its radiance, we blend,
Like vestal primroses, but dark velvet Mingle, and so become a part of it,
Edges them round, and they have golden pits : Nor with aught else can our souls interknit
’T was there I got them, from the gaps and slits So wingedly: when we combine therewith,
In a mossy stone, that sometimes was my seal, Life's self is nourishi'd by its proper pith,
When all above was faint with mid-day beat. And we are nurtured like a pelican brood.
And there in strife no burning thoughits to hecd, Aye, so delicious is the unsating food,
I'd bubble up the water through a reed; That men, who might have tower'd in the van
So reaching back to boyliond: make me ships Of all the congregated world, to fan
Of moulted feathers, touchwood, alder chips, And winnow from the coming step of time
With leaves stuck in thein; and the Neptune be All chaff of custom, wipe away all slime
Of their petty ocean. Oftener, heavily, Left by men-slugs and human serpentry,
When love-lorn hours had left me less a child, Have been content to let occasion die,
I sat contemplating the figures wild Whilst they did sleep in love's elysium.
Of o'er-head clouds mclting the mirror through. And, truly, I would rather be struck dumb,
Upon a day, while thus I watch'd, by flew Than speak against this ardent listlessness :
A cloudy Cupid, with his bow and quiver; For I have ever thought that it might bless
So plainiy character'd, no breeze would shiver The world with benefits unknowingly;
The happy chance : so happy, I was fain As does the nightingale, up-perched high,
To follow it
open plain, And cloister'd among cool and bunched leaves
And, therefore, was just going; when, beliold !
A wonder, fair as any I have told-
Smiling in the clear well. My heart did leap
Through the cool depih.-It moved as if to fleeProduce more than our searching witnesseth:
when lo! refreshfully, What I know not : but who, of men, can tell
There came upon my face, in plenteous showers, That flowers would bloom, or that green fruit would swell Dew-drops, and dewy buds, and leaves, and flowers, To melting pulp, that fish would have bright mail, Wrapping all objects from my smother'd sight, The carth its dower of river, wood, and vale,
Bathing my spirit in a new delight. The meadows runnels, runnels pebble-stones,
Aye, such a breathless honey-feel of bliss The seed its harvest, or the lute its tones,
Alone preserved me from the drear abyss Tones ravishment, or ravishment its sweet,
Of death, for the fair form had gone again.
Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain
On the deer's lender haunches : Jate, and loth, • Now, if this earthly love has power to make 'T is scared away by slow-returniug pleasure. Men's being mortal, immortal; to shake
How sickening, how dark the dreadful leisure Ambition from their memories, and brin
Of weary days, made deeper exquisite, Their measure of content; what merest whim,
By a fore-knowledge of unslumbrous night! Seems all this poor endeavour after fame,
Like sorrow came upon me, leavier still, To one, who keeps within his stedfast aim
Than when I wander'd from the poppy lill: A love immortal, an immortal 100.
And a whole age of lingering moments crept Look not so wilderd; for these things are truc, Sluggishly hy, ere more contentment swept And never can be born of atomies
Away at once the deadly yellow spleen. That buzz about our slumbers, like brain-flies,
Yes, thrice have I this fair enchantment seen; Leaving us fancy-sick. No, no, I'm sure,
Once more been tortured with renewed life. My restless spirit never could endure
When last the wintry gusts gave over strife To brood so long upon one luxury,
With the conquering sun of spring, and left the skies Unless it did, though fearfully, espy
Warm and serene, but yet with moisten'd eyes A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
In pity of the shatter'd infant buds, -My sayings will the less obscured seem
That time thou didst adorn, with amber studs, When I have told thee how my waking sight
My hunting-cap, because I laugh'd and smiled, Hius made me scruple whether that same night Chatted with thee, and many days exiled Was pass'd in dreaming. Hearken, sweet Peona! All torment from my breast;-'t was even then, Beyond the matrop-lemple of Latona,
Straying about, yet, coop'd up in the den Which we should see but for these darkening boughs, Of helpless discontent,- hurling my lance Lies a deep hollow, from whose ragged brows
From place to place, and following at chance, Bushes and trees do lean all round athwart,
At last, by hap, through some young trees it struck, And meet so nearly, that with wings outraught, And, plashing among bedded pebbles, stuck
In the middle of a brook, -whose silver ramble
Endymion! the cave is secreter
O SOVEREIGN power of love! O grief! O balın!
Brain-sick shepherd-prince! What promise hast thou faithful guarded since The day of sacrifice? Or, have new sorrows Come with the constant dawn upon thy morrows? Alas! 't is his old grief. For many days, Has he been wandering in uncertain ways : Through wilderness, and woods of mossed oaks ; Counting his woe-worn minutes, by the strokes Of the lone wood-cutter; and listening still, Hour after hour, to each lush-leaved rill. Now he is sitting by a shady spring, And elbow-deep with feverous fingering Stems the upbursting cold: a wild rose-tree Pavilions him in bloom, and he doth see A bud which snares his fancy: lo! but now He plucks it, dips its stalk in the water : how! It swells, it buds, it flowers beneath his sight; And, in the middle, there is softly pight
This said, he rose, faint-smiling like a star Through autumn mists, and took Peona's hand : They stept into the boat, and launch'd from Jand.