Ranolf and Amohia A dream of two lives. By Alfred Domett. New edition, revised |
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 | Ranolf and Amohia |  |
III.
But while he spoke there stole unseen
O'er Amohia's frank bright face
A shadow—as a slow white cloud
Grows over all the blue sky-space
Left by an opening in the green
O'er-roofing forest thick-emboughed,
And sheds soft gloom where light but now was shining.
O'er Amohia's frank bright face
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Grows over all the blue sky-space
Left by an opening in the green
O'er-roofing forest thick-emboughed,
And sheds soft gloom where light but now was shining.
He marked the mournful drooping head,
The cheek where sadly-pensive spread
The long-curled lashes low-declining:
“Yet,” said he quickly, “few of those
Have such a faultless form as you,
Whose every facile movement shows
What perfect grace on perfect limbs
The perfect freedom from restraint bestows;
Few such a blithe bright bearing; few
Could bound as is your wont
Up the great mountain-side and chase
The shadow of the cloud that skims
Scarce fleeter in its flying race;
Or at the summit could confront
The bland magnificence of Nature's brow
With such superb and regal innocence
And look and mien so kindred! few have eyes
Of such a brilliant power
They take away your breath and burn
Right through your heart whene'er they turn
Their melting flashes on you! few could shower
Such silky breadths of darkness down as now
I hold between me and their gaze,
To see if still their brightness will
Come breaking through in spurry rays
Like evening sunbeams through a thicket dense!
Yes! howsoe'er those beings fair
With Art to aid and Culture's care
From human almost to divine may rise,
For charms like these, not many there
Could with my Wonder of the Wilds compare!”
The cheek where sadly-pensive spread
The long-curled lashes low-declining:
“Yet,” said he quickly, “few of those
Have such a faultless form as you,
Whose every facile movement shows
What perfect grace on perfect limbs
The perfect freedom from restraint bestows;
Few such a blithe bright bearing; few
Could bound as is your wont
Up the great mountain-side and chase
The shadow of the cloud that skims
Scarce fleeter in its flying race;
Or at the summit could confront
The bland magnificence of Nature's brow
With such superb and regal innocence
And look and mien so kindred! few have eyes
Of such a brilliant power
They take away your breath and burn
Right through your heart whene'er they turn
Their melting flashes on you! few could shower
Such silky breadths of darkness down as now
I hold between me and their gaze,
To see if still their brightness will
Come breaking through in spurry rays
Like evening sunbeams through a thicket dense!
86
With Art to aid and Culture's care
From human almost to divine may rise,
For charms like these, not many there
Could with my Wonder of the Wilds compare!”
| Ranolf and Amohia | |