Complete Poems Read Online
The Nereids danced; the Sirens faintly sang; | |
890 | And the great Sea-King bowed his dripping head. |
Then Love took wing, and from his pinions shed | |
On all the multitude a nectarous dew. | |
The ooze-born Goddess beckonèd and drew | |
Fair Scylla and her guides to conference; | |
And when they reached the thronèd eminence | |
She kissed the sea-nymph’s cheek – who sat her down | |
A-toying with the doves. Then – ‘Mighty crown | |
And sceptre of this kingdom!’ Venus said, | |
‘Thy vows were on a time to Naïs paid – | |
900 | Behold!’ – Two copious tear-drops instant fell |
From the God’s large eyes; he smiled delectable, | |
And over Glaucus held his blessing hands. | |
‘Endymion! Ah! still wandering in the bands | |
Of love? Now this is cruel. Since the hour | |
I met thee in earth’s bosom, all my power | |
Have I put forth to serve thee. What, not yet | |
Escaped from dull mortality’s harsh net? | |
A little patience, youth! ’twill not be long, | |
Or I am skilless quite. An idle tongue, | |
910 | A humid eye, and steps luxurious, |
Where these are new and strange, are ominous. | |
Ay, I have seen these signs in one of heaven, | |
When others were all blind: and were I given | |
To utter secrets, haply I might say | |
Some pleasant words – but Love will have his day. | |
So wait awhile expectant. Prithee soon, | |
E’en in the passing of thine honeymoon, | |
Visit thou my Cythera: thou wilt find | |
Cupid well-natured, my Adonis kind. | |
920 | And pray persuade with thee – ah, I have done, |
All blisses be upon thee, my sweet son!’ – | |
Thus the fair goddess, while Endymion | |
Knelt to receive those accents halcyon. | |
Meantime a glorious revelry began | |
Before the Water-Monarch. Nectar ran | |
In courteous fountains to all cups outreached; | |
And plundered vines, teeming exhaustless, pleached | |
New growth about each shell and pendent lyre; | |
The which, in disentangling for their fire, | |
930 | Pulled down fresh foliage and coverture |
For dainty toying. Cupid, empire-sure, | |
Fluttered and laughed, and oft-times through the throng | |
Made a delighted way. Then dance, and song, | |
And garlanding grew wild; and pleasure reigned. | |
In harmless tendril they each other chained, | |
And strove who should be smothered deepest in | |
Fresh crush of leaves. | |
O ’tis a very sin | |
For one so weak to venture his poor verse | |
In such a place as this. O do not curse, | |
940 | High Muses! let him hurry to the ending. |
All suddenly were silent. A soft blending | |
Of dulcet instruments came charmingly; | |
And then a hymn. | |
‘King of the stormy sea! | |
Brother of Jove, and co-inheritor | |
Of elements! Eternally before | |
Thee the waves awful bow. Fast, stubborn rock, | |
At thy feared trident shrinking, doth unlock | |
Its deep foundations, hissing into foam. | |
All mountain-rivers, lost in the wide home | |
950 | Of thy capacious bosom, ever flow. |
Thou frownest, and old Aeolus thy foe | |
Skulks to his cavern, ’mid the gruff complaint | |
Of all his rebel tempests. Dark clouds faint | |
When, from thy diadem, a silver gleam | |
Slants over blue dominion. Thy bright team | |
Gulfs in the morning light, and scuds along | |
To bring thee nearer to that golden song | |
Apollo singeth, while his chariot | |
Waits at the doors of heaven. Thou art not | |
960 | For scenes like this: an empire stern hast thou, |
And it hath furrowed that large front. Yet now, | |
As newly come of heaven, dost thou sit | |
To blend and interknit | |
Subduèd majesty with this glad time. | |
O shell-borne King sublime! | |
We lay our hearts before thee evermore – | |
We sing, and we adore! | |
‘Breathe softly, flutes; | |
Be tender of your strings, ye soothing lutes; | |
970 | Nor be the trumpet heard! O vain, O vain – |
Not flowers budding in an April rain, | |
Nor breath of sleeping dove, nor river’s flow – | |
No, nor the Aeolian twang of Love’s own bow, | |
Can mingle music fit for the soft ear | |
Of goddess Cytherea! | |
Yet deign, white Queen of Beauty, thy fair eyes | |
On our souls’ sacrifice. | |
‘Bright-wingèd Child! | |
Who has another care when thou hast smiled? | |
980 | Unfortunates on earth, we see at last |
All death-shadows, and glooms that overcast | |
Our spirits, fanned away by thy light pinions. | |
O sweetest essence! sweetest of all minions! | |
God of warm pulses, and dishevelled hair, | |
And panting bosoms bare! | |
Dear unseen light in darkness! eclipser | |
Of light in light! delicious poisoner! | |
Thy venomed goblet will we quaff until | |
We fill – we fill! | |
990 | And by thy Mother’s lips –’ |
Was heard no more | |
For clamour, when the golden palace door | |
Opened again, and from without, in shone | |
A new magnificence. On oozy throne | |
Smooth-moving came Oceanus the old, | |
To take a latest glimpse at his sheep-fold, | |
Before he went into his quiet cave | |
To muse for ever. Then a lucid wave, | |
Scooped from its trembling sisters of mid-sea, | |
Afloat, and pillowing up the majesty | |
1000 | Of Doris, and the Aegean seer, her spouse – |
Next, on a dolphin, clad in laurel boughs, | |
Theban Amphion leaning on his lute: | |
His fingers went across it – all were mute | |
To gaze on Amphitrite, queen of pearls, | |
And Thetis pearly too. | |
The palace whirls | |
Around giddy Endymion, seeing he | |
Was there far strayèd from mortality. | |
He could not bear it – shut his eyes in vain; | |
Imagination gave a dizzier pain. | |
1010 | ‘O I shall die! sweet Venus, be my stay! |
Where is my lovely mistress? Well-away! | |
I die – I hear her voice – I feel my wing –’ | |
At Neptune’s feet he sank. A sudden ring | |
Of Nereids were about him, in kind strife | |
To usher back his spirit into life: | |
But still he slept. At last they interwove | |
Their cradling arms, and purposed to convey | |
Towards a crystal bower far away. | |
Lo! while slow carried through the pitying crowd, | |
1020 | To his inward senses these words spake aloud; |
Written in star-light on the dark above: | |
‘Dearest Endymion! my entire love! | |
How have I dwelt in fear of fate! ’tis done – | |
Immortal bliss for me too hast thou won. | |
Arise then! for the hen-dove shall not hatch | |
Her ready eggs, before I’ll kissing snatch | |
Thee into endless heaven. Awake! awake!’ | |
The youth at once arose: a placid lake | |
Came quiet to his eyes; and forest green, | |
1030 | Cooler than all the wonders he had seen, |
Lulled with its simple song his fluttering breast. | |
How happy once again in grassy nest! |
BOOK IV | |
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! | |
O first-born on the mountains! by the hues | |
Of heaven on the spiritual air begot! | |
Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot, | |
While yet our England was a wolfish den; | |
Before our forests heard the talk of men; | |
Before the first of Druids was a child, | |
Long didst thou sit amid our regions wild | |
Rapt in a deep prophetic solitude. | |
10 | There came an eastern voice of solemn mood – |
Yet wast thou patient. Then sang forth the Nine, | |
Apollo’s garland – yet didst thou divine | |
Such home-bred glory, that they cried in vain, | |
‘Come hither, Sister of the Island!’ Plain | |
Spake fair Ausonia; and once more she spake | |
A higher summons – still didst thou betake | |
Thee to thy native hopes. O thou hast won | |
A full accomplishment! The thing is done, | |
Which undone, these our latter days had risen | |
20 | On barren souls. Great Muse, thou know’st what prison, |
Of flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets | |
Our spirit’s wings. Despondency besets | |
Our pillows, and the fresh tomorrow morn | |
Seems to give forth its light in very scorn | |
Of our dull, uninspired, snail-pacèd lives. | |
Long have I said, how happy he who shrives | |
To thee! But then I thought on poets gone, | |
And could not pray – nor could I now – so on | |
I move to the end in lowliness of heart. | |
30 | ‘Ah, woe is me! that I should fondly part |
From my dear native land! Ah, foolish maid! | |
Glad was the hour, when, with thee, myriads bade | |
Adieu to Ganges and their pleasant fields! | |
To one so friendless the clear freshet yields | |
A bitter coolness; the ripe grape is sour: | |
Yet I would have, great gods! but one short hour | |
Of native air – let me but die at home.’ | |
Endymion to heaven’s airy dome | |
Was offering up a hecatomb of vows, | |
40 | When these words reached him. Whereupon he bows |
His head through thorny-green entanglement | |
Of underwood, and to the sound is bent, | |
Anxious as hind towards her hidden fawn. | |
‘Is no one near to help me? No fair dawn | |
Of life from charitable voice? No sweet saying | |
To set my dull and saddened spirit playing? | |
No hand to toy with mine? No lips so sweet | |
That I may worship them? No eyelids meet | |
To twinkle on my bosom? No one dies | |
50 | Before me, till from these enslaving eyes |
Redemption sparkles! – I am sad and lost.’ | |
Thou, Carian lord, hadst better have been tossed | |
Into a whirlpool. Vanish into air, | |
Warm mountaineer! for canst thou only bear | |
A woman’s sigh alone and in distress? | |
See not her charms! Is Phoebe passionless? | |
Phoebe is fairer far – O gaze no more. – | |
Yet if thou wilt behold all beauty’s store, | |
Behold her panting in the forest grass! | |
60 | Do not those curls of glossy jet surpass |
For tenderness the arms so idly lain | |
Amongst them? Feelest not a kindred pain, | |
To see such lovely eyes in swimming search | |
After some warm delight, that seems to perch | |
Dovelike in the dim cell lying beyond | |
Their upper lids? – Hist! | |
‘O for Hermes’ wand, | |
To touch this flower into human shape! | |
That woodland Hyacinthus could escape | |
From his green prison, and here kneeling down | |
70 | Call me his queen, his second life’s fair crown! |
Ah me, how I could love! – My soul doth melt | |
For the unhappy youth – Love! I have felt | |
So faint a kindness, such a meek surrender | |
To what my own full thoughts had made too tender, | |
That but for tears my life had fled away! – | |
Ye deaf and senseless minutes of the day, | |
And thou, old forest, hold ye this for true, | |
There is no lightning, no authentic dew | |
But in the eye of love: there’s not a sound, | |
80 | Melodious howsoever, can confound |
The heavens and earth in one to such a death | |
As doth the voice of love: there’s not a breath | |
Will mingle kindly with the meadow air, | |
Till it has panted round, and stolen a share | |
Of passion from the heart!’ | |
Upon a bough | |
He leant, wretched. He surely cannot now | |
Thirst for another love. O impious, | |
That he can even dream upon it thus! – | |
Thought he, ‘Why am I not as are the dead, | |
90 | Since to a woe like this I have been led |
Through the dark earth, and through the wondrous sea? | |
Goddess! I love thee not the less! from thee | |
By Juno’s smile I turn not – no, no, no – | |
While the great waters are at ebb and flow. | |
I have a triple soul! O fond pretence – | |
For both, for both my love is so immense, | |
I feel my heart is cut for them in twain.’ | |
And so he groaned, as one by beauty slain. | |
The lady’s heart beat quick, and he could see | |
100 | Her gentle bosom heave tumultuously. |
He sprang from his green covert: there she lay, | |
Sweet as a musk-rose upon new-made hay; | |
With all her limbs on tremble, and her eyes | |
Shut softly up alive. |
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