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Now travelling sea and sky with straining orbs,

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And both hands crossed above his darkening eyes,
Phosphor beheld, betwixt the sky and sea,
Suspended a bright shape in outline dim,
And wondering questioned thus the Evening Light
That near him shone: “O brother that at eve
“Dost guide this glorious world as I at morn,
“Seest thou yon glittering shadow which o'erhangs
“The last white foam in the remote sea-line?
“A shining cloud it seems and cloud might be,
“Save for its motion, for it comes this way,
“With course direct against our seaward wind.
“My vision fades with fading day, but thou
“With orbs at full, may'st well the shape discern.”
He ceased, and Hesper, far into the west
Steadfastly gazing, saw the shadow come,
Shadow or splendour, each it seemed, or both,
And knew that deity was on the air.
“Phosphor,” he cried, “no shining cloud is there,
“But an Olympian Power that midway floats
“Between the sky and sea; a glory falls
“From his strong limbs, and luminous circles play
“Sparkling beneath his feet; like Spring he comes
“When from her star she stoops from headlong flight,
“And leaves a brightness on the enchanted air.”
He ended, and in silence gazing round,
These graceful princes of Hesperia stood,
Awaiting the glad advent of the god.
Near and more near he came; low flutelike sounds,
Or notes, as of some bird invisible,
The dreaming earth and all the listening air

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One moment filled, then slowly died away,
And mid prevailing calm the God appeared.
They saw and knew the Power, and bending low,
Meet homage tender'd, welcoming their king,
The brother of their liege Queen Aphrodite.
“O Bacchus! welcome to Hesperian shores,”
Cried Hesperus, and “Welcome! ” Phosphor cried,
To whom the God, “O delicate ministers
“Of light, at morn and eve, your greeting fair
“Gladly I take, but gladlier would I go
“To your great Queen in that bright palace-home
“Where now she dwells. Your gentle heraldry
“Or escort, tho' scarce needed, were for me
“A princely grace, if ye such grace can grant.”
“Our Queen, ” thus answered low the Light of Morn,
“Left four days since this city where we dwell,
Divine Cythera, summoning her court
“To the metropolis: three leagues away
“Across the Paphian Fields, and o'er the lake
“Astarte, must thy onward journey be.
“My brother's task is done; no fitter guide
“Could all Hesperia show; my duty now
“Is to light up Love's folding-star till morn
“And now farewell, for that sweet office still
“My personal service asks, and fading here,
“I shall renew my splendour where I go,
“For with the duty comes the grace which clothes
“The Spirits of the Light, that never rest,
“But work for other worlds as for their own.”
“Thou, too, farewell, O gentle Morning-light!”

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The Olympian answer'd. “Fade thou happily,
“And happily renew thy faded beams;
“And Hesperus, whose paler reign begins,
“My courier be.” The Spirits of Light bow'd low,
And he that rules the morning, o'er the fields
Flashing his cresset, ran. The mellow eve
Was now at full, and from the attendant moon
A festive light o'er hill and valley fell,
O'er tree and flower; while still to greet the God,
Crocus and lily, and with fragrant bells,
The hyacinth and fair narcissus rose,
Sudden as dream. On soft voluptuous grass
He trod delighted, while the nightingales,
From starry myrtle-blooms, high overhead,
Sang to the moon, and down, among the leaves,
A whispering wandering music chirp'd and sang.
So thro' the Paphian Fields, which smiling lay
In that sweet dreaming moonlight, walk'd the God,
Till, all that land of rose and lily past,
He entered the Idalian Vales where shone
The wan gold light of myriad asphodels,
Twinkling like stars that twinkle evermore.
There pausing, for he heard a liquid sound
Of waters lapping on no far-off shore,
He drew the breath of winds that seem'd to waft
A sweet sea-odour fresh from cooling waves;
And now, as down the hill's green slope he past,
He saw the shining level of the lake
Astarte (for all names of Love met here).
Linked with a flowery cable to the shore,

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A pinnace floated, wrought of moonstone pale,
With green and purple hues that come and go.
The God approached, and on the gleaming deck,
Swift as a moonbeam lighted, and at once,
Self-moving o'er the lake, the pinnace flew,
And without aid of oar or wafting sail
Held onward, till against its curved prow
The waters rose, and equal with the deck,
Fell murmuring back, while the transparent wave
Swarmed with the coloured life that dwells below.
Now past a sylvan cape, still piloted,
Through balmy islands, by delighted winds,
The pinnace fled. Both right and left tall trees
Dropt emerald shadows on the lucid bark,
And saw in liquid calm their fairer selves.
But to the magic boat, yet sailing on,
The lake now opened, widening to a sea,
While opposite a mighty city rose,
With tower and column soaring thro' the night,
And springing arch and lengthening architrave
That slept in moonbeams, and below, the breadth
Of porphyry bastion, crouching in the shade.
'T was like a fairy city which the wand
Of potent dealer with the elements,
Magician or enchanter, in old song,
Romance or tale Arabian, hath called up.
And now, in haven fair, the ethereal bark
Rests by a marble pier, which snowlike shines,
Yet dazzles not. Firm anchorage finding there,
Leaped Bacchus to the shore, and leaping flung

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His tresses streaming like a golden morn,
From off his shoulders and his neck divine.
Along the pier a godlike multitude
Loud welcome shouted, and from echoing halls
Came sceptred Gods with all the Hesperian Powers.
Some in their crowns wore wreaths of ivy green,
Some briony, and blossoms of the grape,
Or rose, or myrtle, that above the sun
Bloom in the gardens of perpetual spring.
With glad acclaim they hailed the arriving God
With Evoe and Io; such all night
In folds of grey Cithæron, when the train
Of Mænad wassailers confront the dark
With flaring torches and dim shadowy boughs,
A vineyard all on fire, the traveller hears,
And in some mountain hollow lurks secure.
So shouting led they Bacchus thro' the streets
Of the metropolis, Dionium called.
Of gold the pavement was, and clear as glass.
Throughout the streets, on either hand, appeared
Temple and colonnade and theatre,
Of amethyst and opal, pearl and gold,
With sculpture rare, and carv'd entablature,
And delicate embroidery, wrought in stone,
With flower of rose and flower of lily wrought;
Thro' street and archway, hall and corridor,
Like a bright stream the long procession flowed,
Continuous, till it reached an open square
White with the wandering moon. Here central rose
The palace of the Queen, wrought all of pearl,

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That in the moonlight likest moonlight seemed,
Or work of radiant cloud that miracle
Had hardened into stone. Four portals looked
Direct towards the four great winds of heaven,
Fashioned of amethyst. Above them stood
Fair forms, in breathing marble: God and man,
Genius and Muse, or else the larger shapes
Of panther, cameleopard and lucern,
Bewildering air with beauty. But ere long,
Self-moving upon golden hinges, rolled
The amethystine portals, to receive
Bacchus and all this mighty company.
Self-moving, yet once more the jewelled gates
Closed, and the flying echoes far away
Died as the Gods advanced. Thro' mystic bowers
That shone as with the light of sunset clouds,
While all the painted life upon the walls
Seemed pleading for heroic memories
Of men whom love made gods and placed in heaven;
Thro' halls and corridors in lengthening line
Streamed that glad multitude, and now attained
An ample chamber wrought of solid pearl,
With dazzling light from gem and jewel rare
That suited the strong vision of the Gods.
Throughout the hall, at equal distance ranged,
Twelve thrones were set, whereof the central shone
As among stars the moon: and here the Queen
Of all desire and of all beauty sate.
To right of her was Eros, on her left
Dione smiled, and shapes with many wings,

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Hovered above, half shadowy, half in light.
Soon as Uranian Aphrodite saw
The moving glory, like a star she rose,
From off her pearlèd throne to meet the God.
“Welcome, great brother, welcome to my court,
“Welcome from all the realm and most from me,
“Thy sister-sovereign.” With like gracious words
The God replied, and to her throne led back
Uranian Aphrodite, and beside
Sate on a couch of gold, with gems o'erlaid,
There placed for the great father of the world.
And thus the God: “When the fair Attic chief,
“Obedient to the lords that rule all life,
“Had loved and left the Princess whom he loved,
“Wrapt in the shadow of care as in a cloud
“Pale Ariadne sate. Yet, evermore,
“While thus she sate, feeding her bitter grief,
“Two mighty Powers wrought for her, Time and Fate,
“And Deity wrought with them. In those days
“It was her joy to climb the shadowy hills
“That soar above the sunbeams or the stars,
“And talk with winds and clouds. I watched her there,
“And whispered as I mixed with all her thoughts,
“In solemn noonday trance or gorgeous dream,
“That for a mortal's sake immortal love
“Might bring the Gods from heaven; yet the high laws,
“Which Fate recorded ere the hours began,
“Must needs be honoured, and mortality,
“Thro' love and grief, grow pure of mortal stain.
“More had I done but such the absolute sway

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“Of the pale purifying Power of Tears,
“That even Gods taste of the bitter wine
“Which grief and shame have mingled: nor could she,
“A mortal born to sorrow, from her lips
“Push the rough healing draught; but homage done
“To the high laws that all allegiance claim,
“Alike in heaven and earth, from god and man,
“There dawns a golden end; great prophecies
“Crowd for fulfilment. Thou then, mighty Queen!
“For as I rule o'er the strong heart of man,
“Thou rul'st o'er woman's heart—lend timeliest aid,
“And with the spells of the sweet spirit of love
“Call back this wanderer from the wasted past,
“To the inviolate calm and vernal grace
“Which make the ever-present time of Gods.”
So spake the Heavenly Power. With words more soft
Than falling rainbow-drops on flowers half-blown
The Goddess answered him: “O throned with me
“O'er love's mysterious world, with thee I work,
“Well knowing that a golden end is near,
“For from the fatal Three, whose sceptre sways
“Earth and the immortals, I but late received
“A scroll, which now my winged Love shall read,
“For Love is of Love's own high mysteries
“The best interpreter.” So saying the Queen
Called Eros: Eros came with sunbright wings,
Half open with delight, and took the scroll,
And conning all that mystic oracle,
Told how ‘to the serene and beautiful homes
In the great city of the happy Gods,

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Immortal Power matched with immortal Love,
Shall bear essential Beauty in the mould
Of feminine mortality enshrined,
And crown her with a diadem of stars.’