V.
THE SATYR.
1.
The trunk of this tree,
Dusky-leaved, shaggy-rooted,
Is a pillow well suited
To a hybrid like me,
Goat-bearded, goat-footed;
For the boughs of the glade
Meet above me, and throw
A cool pleasant shade
On the greenness below;
Dusky and brown'd
Close the leaves all around;
And yet, all the while,
Thro' the boughs I can see
A star, with a smile,
Looking at me.
2.
Full length I lie,
On this mossy tree-knot,
With face to the sky,
The vast blue I see not;
And I start in surprise
From my dim half-dream,
With the moist white gleam
Of the star in mine eyes:
So strange does it seem
That the star should beam
From her crystal throne
On this forest nook
Of all others, and look
Upon me alone:
Ay, that yonder divine
Soft face
Should shine
On this one place;
And, when things so fair
Till the earth and air,
Should choose to be,
Night after night,
The especial light
Of a monster like me!
3.
Why, all day long,
I run about
With a madcap throng,
And laugh and shout.
Silenus grips
My ears, and strides
On my shaggy hips,
And up and down
In an ivy crown
Tipsily rides;
And when in a doze
His eyelids close,
Off he tumbles, and I
Can his wine-skin steal,
I drink—and feel
The grass roll—sea-high!
Then with shouts and yells,
Down mossy dells,
I stagger after
The wood-nymphs fleet,
Who with mocking laughter
And smiles retreat;
And just as I clasp
A yielding waist,
With a cry embraced,
—Gush! it melts from my grasp
Into water cool,
And—bubble! trouble!
Seeing double!
I stumble and gasp
In some icy pool!
4.
All suborn me,
Flout me, scorn me!
Drunken joys
And cares are mine,
Romp and noise,
And the dregs of wine;
And whene'er in the night
Diana glides by
The spot where I lie,
With her maids green-dight,
I must turn my back
In a rude affright,
And blindly fly
From her shining track!
Or if only I hear
Her bright foot-fall near,
Fall with face to the grass,
Not breathing for fear
Till I feel her pass.
5.
I am—
I know not what:
Neither what I am,
Nor what I am not—
I seem to have rollick'd,
And frolick'd,
In this wood for ay,
With a beast's delight
Romping all day,
Dreaming all night!
Yet I seem
To remember awaking
Just here, and aching
With the last forsaking
Tender gleam
Of a droll strange dream.—
When I lay at mine ease,
With a sense at my heart
Of being a part
Of the grass and trees
And the scented earth,
And of drinking the bright
Subdued sunlight
With a leafy mirth:
Then behold, I could see
A wood-nymph peeping
Out of her tree,
And closer creeping,
Timorously
Looking at me!
And still, so still,
I lay until
She trembled close to me,
Soft as a rose to me,
And I leapt with a thrill
And a shout, and threw
Arms around her, and press'd her,
Kiss'd her, caress'd her,—
Ere she scream'd, and flew.
6.
Then I was 'ware
Of a power I had—
To drink the air,
Laugh and shout,
Run about,
And be consciously glad—
So I follow'd the maiden
'Neath shady eaves,
Thro' groves deep-laden
With fruit and leaves,
Till, drawing near
To a brooklet clear,
I shuddering fled
From the monstrous shape
There mirrorëd—
Which seem'd to espy me,
And grin and gape,
And leap up high
In the air with a cry,
And fly me!
7.
Whence I seem to have slowly
Grown conscious of being
A thing wild, unholy,
And foul to the seeing.—
But ere I knew aught
Of others like me,
I would lie, fancy-fraught,
In the greenness of thought,
Beneath a green tree;
And seem to be deep
In the scented earth-shade
'Neath the grass of the glade,
In a strange half-sleep:
When the wind seem'd to move me,
The cool rain to kiss,
The sunlight to love me,
The stars in their bliss
To tingle above me;
And I crept thro' deep bowers
That were sparkling with showers
And sprouting for pleasure,
And I quicken'd the flowers
To a joy without measure—
Till my sense seem'd consuming
With warmth, and, upspringing,
I saw the flowers blooming,
And heard the birds singing!
8.
Wherever I range,
Thro' the greenery,
That vision strange,
Whatsoever it be,
Is a part of me
Which suffers not change.—
The changes of earth,
Water, air, ever-stirring,
Disturb me, conferring
My sadness or mirth:
Wheresoever I run,
I drink strength from the sun;
The wind stirs my veins
With the leaves of the wood,
The dews and the rains
Mingle into my blood.
I stop short
In my sport,
Panting, and cower,
While the blue skies darken
With a sunny shower;
And I lie and hearken,
In a balmy pain
To the tinkling clatter,
Pitter, patter,
Of the rain
On the leaves close to me,
And sweet thrills pass
Thro' and thro' me,
Till I thingle like grass.
When lightning with noise
Tears the wood's green ceiling,
When the black sky's voice
Is terribly pealing,
I hide me, hide me, hide me,
With wild averted face,
In some terror-stricken place,
While flowers and trees beside me,
And every streamlet near,
Darken whirl, and wonder,
Above, around, and under,
And murmur back the thunder
In a palpitating fear!
9.
Ay; and when the earth turns
A soft bosom of balm
To the darkness that yearns
Above it, and grows
To dark, dewy, and calm
Repose,—
I, apart from rude riot,
Partake of the quiet
The night is bequeathing,
Lie, unseen and unheard,
In the greenness just stirr'd
By its own soft breathing—
And my heart then thrills
With a strange sensation
Like the purl of rills
Down moonlit hills
That loom afar,
With a sweet sensation
Like the palpitation
Of yonder star!
10.
Thro' yonder bough
Her white ray twinkles;
And on my brow
She silently sprinkles
A dewy rain,
That lulls my brain
To a dream of being
Under the ground,
Blind to seeing
Deaf to sound,
Drinking a dew
That drops from afar,
And feeling unto
The sweet pulse of a star,
Who is beckoning me
Though I cannot see!
And of suddenly blooming
Up into the air,
And, swooning, assuming
The shape I wear!
While all fair things
Fly night and day from me,
Wave bright wings,
And glimmer away from me!
11.
—She shines above me,
And heareth not,
Though she smiles on this spot
And seems to love me.
Here I lie aloof,
Goat-footed, knock-kneed,
A monster, indeed,
From horns to hoof;
And the star burns clearly
With pearl-white gleam—
Have I merely
Dream'd a dream?
12.
—Did she hear me, I wonder?—
She trembles upon
Her throne—and is gone!
The boughs darken under,
Then thrill, and are stirr'd
By the notes of a bird,
The green grass brightens
With pearly dew,
And the whole wood whitens
As the dawn creeps thro'.—
‘Hoho!’—that shout
Flung the echoes about
The boughs, like balls!
Who calls?—
'Tis the noisy rout
Of my fellows upspringing
From sleep and dreaming,
To the birds' shrill singing,
The day's soft beaming:
And they madly go
To and fro,
Though o' nights they are dumb.
Hoho! hoho!
I come! I come!
Hark!—to the cry
They reply:
‘Ha, there, ha!’
‘Hurrah!’—‘hurrah!’
And startling afraid
At the cries,
In the depths of the glade
Echo replies—
‘Ho, there!’—‘ho, there!’—
By the stream below there
The answer dies.
