University of Virginia Library

Screened by four shadowy hills that boldly face
The four great winds and touch the journeying stars,
A forest, blooming with a lovelier life,
So charms the traveller, that he half awaits
The magic opening of the enfolding trees.
To see in some green depth of lonely shade
High presences that sit at festal boards,
And lift gold cups amid a crystal calm;
Nor waits in vain, but sees with wondering eyes
Gods and fair shapes like Gods, and piping Fauns
And Satyrs chasing ivory-ankled nymphs,
That mock and laugh, while all their yellow hair
Floats round them like a gorgeous summer cloud.

To cool the breeze that wanders round the hills,
Four fountains, from a secret cradle leap
In silvery circling shafts, while clambering vines
Run here and there and catch slant gleams of sun,
Or else red shadows from the burning West
Creep round old dreamy trees, while azure birds
Flit in and out among the trellis'd boughs,
Or sing among the leaves to sunset skies.
Here all the children of the forest met,
Here in a green and golden atmosphere
Talk'd, sang, or danced till their great master came.
“Is it not late?” at length one gentle voice
Thus struggled into hearing, thro' thick leaves.
“Is it not late? Behold the dwindling sun
“Sits like a star upon the pinnacle
“Of the tall hill that fronts the burning west.
“Look out between the trees, Egeria, look,
“And see if any token of our king
“Brighten this way.” “I will” a voice replied,
And soon the unfolding boughs revealed a shape
That, when the world was rich in griefs and joys,
Taught love and wisdom to the Latin king;
When night brought starry oracles, and sleep
Left only that one man awake in Rome.

Beyond the utmost tension of the sight
The valley stretch'd, and still its lengthening curve
Threw back the intruding vision. Left and right
The maiden look'd, but only saw the sky
And wandering clouds: she listened, as she look'd,
But only heard the grass and sighing winds;
Yet, as she listened, faint and far away
A tremulous murmur, as of breaking waves,
Fell on her delicate ear, and, swift as flame,
Turning, she said, “Rejoice, dear Nephele,
“Rejoice, for I have heard the mystic strains
“Which herald our great master.” As she spake
The murmur swelled into a mighty sound, —
A sound of many mingled instruments,
And from each hollow glen the sylvan world
Went hand in hand to meet the approaching pomp
That with a thousand far-off splendours shone,
As when beneath the sky, the unrisen sun
Shines, and the darkness ebbs, and all the Gods
Stand up to see the glory roll below.
Nearer it came. With faces all on fire
The Bacchic heralds mov'd with step attuned
To clash of cymbal, gong, and blaring trump;
Then, with loose tresses, darkening down the air,
Like flowing clouds blown lengthwise thro' the heaven,
And lips all white with dreadful prophecy,
The Mænads came, leaving their mother's side,
To follow Bacchus over sea and land.
They, twinkling ivy wands and tossing out
Their long loose serpent-locks, burst, floodlike, down
The shadowy sloping hills, wave after wave.
Then, clad in lucid arms, and helmeted
With triple plumes that chequered all the ground;
With clash of cymbals, lifted in the air,
And roll of drum, and gathering din of horn,
The Corybantes came and called the God
That loves the vine, the ivy, asphodel,
That loves the dolphin, serpent, tiger, lynx,
And hates the gray dull bird that hates the day,
And with the God they joined the ancestral Power,
The mother of the Gods, dread Cybele,
Now throned, with lions watching at her side,
Now drawn by lions, riding in her car.

Next, with broad features, casting as they went
Voluptuous glances from large floating eyes,
Blooming with foliage of the scarlet holm,
And wreath'd with boughs of oak and olive tree,
The Satyrs danced, and leapt, and tumbled on,
A moving forest of tumultuous life.

But now, to softer music lovelier shapes
March with light footfall, beating perfect time;
In purple vesture clothed, with zones more white
Than snow that sleeps all day in vernal meads,
And o'er each head was set a silver star,
And as they mov'd or paus'd, it paused or moved.

At length a rolling splendour as of clouds
Which float o'er suns intolerably bright,
Past slowly, while a thousand harping winds
Rang round, and lo! a surging silv'ry foam,
Like mists that veil the morning, soaring up
Into the topless sky, left clear the space
Of central glory and music, and disclos'd
The semblance of a chariot like the sun.

A thousand wheels a thousand wheels within,
In myriad evolutions circled round,
And round and round, in mingled mist and fire,
All elemental living things were roll'd
With dazzling speed and force of blinding wings.
So with Æolian music mov'd the car,
Divine, eternal, emblem of all life.
Slowly it came, for all that subtle coil
Of flying circles, for a double power
Was in the wheels, each moving for itself,
And each for all, both swift and slow in one.
But nearer as it drew, a fear divine
Breath'd round, and where the eddying wheels advanced
Went silence, and the chariot mov'd unheard.
Within it, while a golden cloud stooped down
To sphere it as it shone, rose dim and vast
A scarce distinguishable shape, that show'd
Awful in grace, like images of gods
When gods look down on the amazèd earth.
Erect he stood, and as the cloud dissolved,
Towered in colossal beauty, calm and strong.
There was eternity in his regard,
Each limb was flush'd with an immortal youth,
And every act revealed the perfect God.
All stood out clear in that enfolding light,
As in the splendour of a flaming town,
When wild winds fan the fiery element,
Man, beast, dome, tower and temple show distinct,
And loom out large and near across the night.
In folds innumerous o'er his shoulders fell
A mantle like the starry firmament
Hung over darkness. Mid the rising throng
Of sounds converging to one central din,
He stood up-gathered, in a dread repose,
Holding in either hand the shadowy reins
That turned the sacred leopards, shadowy too.
His face was lifted upwards, and his eyes
Flashed as they looked beyond this mortal sphere.
And now, self-orbed into a mystic ring,
The long procession paus'd. No music peal'd,
No voice sang triumph while the chariot past,
Slow-gliding thro' the vast resplendent halls
Where rose the throne of Bacchus. Hither came
The maidens with the stars above their heads,
Who, when the God alighted, waiting stood,
And when the God advanced, companion'd him,
And still the stars moved with them as they mov'd,
Or if they paus'd the stars still paus'd with them.

The throne was solid pearl, and blossomed thick
With the rich sculptured life that poets love.
Here sat the God; the attendant populace
Stood silent round, and listened as he spoke.
“O elemental princes! Powers that dwell
“In earth, air, water, or in lucent fire,
“And ye fair sons and daughters fair of men,
“Hear me, your king and father, while I speak.
“Henceforth in this enchanting realm we meet
“No more—for here have bold rebellious hands
“Been lifted up, and from his marble base
“Have mortals hurled a dread immortal down.
“I see the anger burning on your cheeks—
“Ye would avenge me, but it must not be.
“A gentler thought to gentler purpose leads,
“And in my milder wisdom I shall know
“To glorify a princess desolate,
“And crown a God with triumph. Stifle then
“The fiery wrath that leaps to fruitless act,
“And wait as Gods and godlike men must do.”

He ceased, and straight a mighty murmur rose,
Such as swells up, with sound of surging waves,
On startled ears of men but half-awake,
When the wind comes leaping from the West, and falls
Full on the rocks and woods and desert holts,
And moans thro' hollow caves at dead of night.
But soon that murmur ceased, and glad acclaim
Rose from that host innumerous. “Bacchus, hail!
“Hail, Bacchus, hail!” —and still the harmonious sounds,
Like waters meeting waters, rolled to Heaven—
“Hail, Bacchus, hail! O lord of life and death,
“O father of the shadowy universe,
“O spirit of the unfathomable world,
“Felt in the air, and gleaming in the depths
“Of the wide sea and overhanging sky,
“We hear, and we obey. Hail, Bacchus, hail!”

They ceased, and far and near a frantic crew,
On mischief bent and havoc merciless,
Ranged with loud outcry, while a gentler band
Reclaimed their gifts, and from the budding flower
The colour drew, drew splendour from the grass,
Took the gray eloquence from antique trees,
And beautiful divinings from the face
Of dimpled streams, like thoughts made visible
In smiles round some beloved woman's face.
Gifts fair as these, or if yet fairer be
Then fairer, were with word or wand recalled,
Till there remained what deity alone
That gave it could reclaim or could destroy,
For only Gods undo what Gods have done.
Then from his throne, like some great light from heaven
Hurl'd in the eyes of one born blind, but then
And thereby gifted with a sudden sight,
The lord of life came down pronouncing doom.
But ere he spake, the conscious forests sank,
The sobbing rivers left their channels dry,
The green sweet life of trees, as in a frost,
Paled into death; where late were glorious flowers
Sprang pulpy stems; what once were noblest lakes
Shrank to mean waterpools, with scurf of weed
O'erfilmed; and all that magic forest-realm,
Now disenchanted, lay a waste forlorn,
—A common waste among four common hills.
So is it ever when the Gods depart.

But soon the bright ethereal populace
That had their home in lake or tree or flower,
Each odorous haunt forsook and crystal cell,
And in the light of gold and crimson wings
Apparelled, near their lord expectant stood
In bodiless beauty. Nor that Power delay'd,
But to these children of the elements
Gave lovelier forms and gave a lovelier life.
Like coloured shadows on transparent waves
They mov'd and mingled, or like radiant winds,
Or as thro' gorgeous glass when sunbeams smite
Green, blue, and crimson on some marble wall,
Reflex from dancing images, and play
And cross and float and waver up and down,
And dream-like fade. So fled and faded they.

Meanwhile that ruder train, whose dazzling pomp
Still heralded or followed their great King,
To Thessaly are gone; the Mænad maids—
That ever clothe them in white innocence
—By viewless hands of Zephyr's myriad sons,
Thro' western air to purple isles are borne—
To purple isles in solitary seas,
Silent, unknown, mysterious, where they lead
Delightful days—where wait till Bacchus come,
And ring them out once more to happy life.
But now, he struck the hollow echoing earth,
Which opening, showed a dim unmeasured world
Glimmering beneath, whereto a golden way
With gradual slope led down. Here, sinking slow,
Glided the enchanted car, and with it went
The beautiful Companionship that moved
Continuous, while above it moved the stars.
But when the earth on all that gentle pomp
Inaudible had closed, the Heavenly Power
Rose calmly on the twilight air, and shone
Like to a second sunset, where there lay
Beyond the western beams a sapphire realm
Whose one sweet Evening-Star shed rosy light.