 | Golden Histories, etc |  |
114
THE ADVENTURE OF PRINCE ARETHUSE.
I was a Prince. My beauty proud,
Half sunlight was, and half was cloud;
Gold tresses round me shivering fell,
And thro' my locks of flowing gold,
Orbs of dark light and depth untold,
Looked out, large, eloquent, and bold,
O, I was fair as dreams can tell
Half sunlight was, and half was cloud;
Gold tresses round me shivering fell,
And thro' my locks of flowing gold,
Orbs of dark light and depth untold,
Looked out, large, eloquent, and bold,
O, I was fair as dreams can tell
All natural grace, all art was mine,
I mov'd as one in worlds divine;
All soul was I and subtler sense,
The impulses of wave and wood,
Of whispering wind and rolling flood,
Of sun or planet thrilled my blood
With glorious passion, life intense.
I mov'd as one in worlds divine;
All soul was I and subtler sense,
The impulses of wave and wood,
Of whispering wind and rolling flood,
Of sun or planet thrilled my blood
With glorious passion, life intense.
115
My palace-halls were fields and bowers,
My courtiers rainbows, clouds, and flowers;
Yea, all glad things that love the day.
In ignorant bliss, with maiden heart,
Throned in green realms, I dwelt apart;
The world with all its magic art,
The grand fair world smiled far away.
My courtiers rainbows, clouds, and flowers;
Yea, all glad things that love the day.
In ignorant bliss, with maiden heart,
Throned in green realms, I dwelt apart;
The world with all its magic art,
The grand fair world smiled far away.
Yet youth will dream, and Hope has spells,
To lure ev'n Hermits from their cells,
And Fancy hangs her bow in air.
The birds sang out from tower and tree,
The knightly deer were bounding free,
The heaven, like love, bent over me,
And the fair world grew yet more fair.
To lure ev'n Hermits from their cells,
And Fancy hangs her bow in air.
The birds sang out from tower and tree,
The knightly deer were bounding free,
“Bucks, swans, and herons have something in their very appearance announcing them of knightly appurtenance. . . In a buck there is something so gainly and so grand—he treadeth the earth with such ease and such agility; he abstaineth from all other animals with such puntilious avoidance—one would imagine God created him when he created knighthood.”—(See W. S. Landor's “Examination of William Shakspeare.”)
The heaven, like love, bent over me,
And the fair world grew yet more fair.
Joy lent me wings, and, broad and blue,
The sky laughed round me, as I flew,
From north to south, from east to west;
The silvery clouds across it sail'd,
And if the loitering breeze prevail'd,
Like ships they moved, and when it fail'd,
Stately they paus'd, like ships at rest.
The sky laughed round me, as I flew,
From north to south, from east to west;
The silvery clouds across it sail'd,
And if the loitering breeze prevail'd,
Like ships they moved, and when it fail'd,
Stately they paus'd, like ships at rest.
I crossed the valley, leapt the Brook,
That laughed, as Naiad-like, she shook
Her liquid diamonds down the dell;
The chestnut boughs stretched left and right,
And wandering where a golden light
Checquer'd the forest's emerald night,
I came, ah! where? what tongue shall tell?
That laughed, as Naiad-like, she shook
Her liquid diamonds down the dell;
The chestnut boughs stretched left and right,
And wandering where a golden light
Checquer'd the forest's emerald night,
I came, ah! where? what tongue shall tell?
116
There, whispering to the wind's low call,
Three poplars near the vine-clad wall,
Above their lengthening shadows slept.
Long, long I gazed; the wall was high,
But goat will climb and hawk will fly,
What bird, what beast more bold than I?
I climbed, I stood, I looked, I leapt.
Three poplars near the vine-clad wall,
Above their lengthening shadows slept.
Long, long I gazed; the wall was high,
But goat will climb and hawk will fly,
What bird, what beast more bold than I?
I climbed, I stood, I looked, I leapt.
Then balancing 'twixt joy and fear,
As one that feels his doom is near,
I lingered in enchanted bowers,
Shrined in green splendour, golden gloom,
Treading where rose and violet bloom,
Breathing not air but wild perfume,
And watched by mystic viewless Powers.
As one that feels his doom is near,
I lingered in enchanted bowers,
Shrined in green splendour, golden gloom,
Treading where rose and violet bloom,
Breathing not air but wild perfume,
And watched by mystic viewless Powers.
At length in gorgeous cell I stood,
Some spirit's home in haunted wood,
Where marble shapes rose snowy-fair,
Laughing with flowers of rainbow dyes,
Blushing with wine that Gods might prize,
Murmuring with faint melodious sighs,
When harpstrings caught the swooning air.
Some spirit's home in haunted wood,
Where marble shapes rose snowy-fair,
Laughing with flowers of rainbow dyes,
Blushing with wine that Gods might prize,
Murmuring with faint melodious sighs,
When harpstrings caught the swooning air.
While thus I stood, half hope, half fear,
Some gracious Thing seemed breathing near,
Some secret presence of the May.
On broidered couch, where light and gloom
Mixed with the odour and the bloom,
Calm slept the lady of my doom,
Serene and splendid as the Day.
Some gracious Thing seemed breathing near,
Some secret presence of the May.
On broidered couch, where light and gloom
Mixed with the odour and the bloom,
Calm slept the lady of my doom,
Serene and splendid as the Day.
117
Her beauty fell on me like gleams
Of purple light, when from their dreams
The Morning wakens earth and skies.
Her long long tresses lay unbound,
Braided her dazzling arms around,
Or flowing blackly to the ground,
Or waving if a breeze might rise.
Of purple light, when from their dreams
The Morning wakens earth and skies.
Her long long tresses lay unbound,
Braided her dazzling arms around,
Or flowing blackly to the ground,
Or waving if a breeze might rise.
How fair she lay, in queenly rest,
One arm half-folded on her breast,
And one half-pillowing her meek head:
But fairer sight it was, to see
How, while she slept, one soft white knee,
From envious, prisoning, robe set free,
Lay, pure as snow, on damask red.
One arm half-folded on her breast,
And one half-pillowing her meek head:
But fairer sight it was, to see
How, while she slept, one soft white knee,
From envious, prisoning, robe set free,
Lay, pure as snow, on damask red.
I gazed, I saw, I felt all this,
O dainty limb for love to kiss!
The Gentle Heart allowed it not.
I stood all trembling by her side,
I could not hurt the maiden pride
Of one whom sleep half deified,
And turned to quit the hallowed spot.
O dainty limb for love to kiss!
The Gentle Heart allowed it not.
I stood all trembling by her side,
I could not hurt the maiden pride
Of one whom sleep half deified,
And turned to quit the hallowed spot.
Just then the trill of some glad bird
Broke her light sleep; she sighed, she stirr'd,
The vision faded from her eyes;
And rising from her happy dream
She saw me, but no smothered scream
Told that she fear'd, for calm, supreme,
She stood all breathing of the skies.
Broke her light sleep; she sighed, she stirr'd,
The vision faded from her eyes;
And rising from her happy dream
She saw me, but no smothered scream
Told that she fear'd, for calm, supreme,
She stood all breathing of the skies.
118
“What right hast thou, ungracious man,
“To enter here?” the Sprite began,
O! Woman rather call her name:
I answer'd, “O'er the garden-wall
“Lightly I leapt at Fancy's call,
“No right had I, no right at all,
“Forgive me if I am to blame.
“To enter here?” the Sprite began,
O! Woman rather call her name:
I answer'd, “O'er the garden-wall
“Lightly I leapt at Fancy's call,
“No right had I, no right at all,
“Forgive me if I am to blame.
“No purpose had I to molest
“The Queen of Faerie in her rest,
“Or mar the sleep of such a Muse.
“A wanderer am I, somewhat wild;
“I love adventures”—here she smil'd—
“Am half a poet, half a child,
“And I am named Prince Arethuse.”
“The Queen of Faerie in her rest,
“Or mar the sleep of such a Muse.
“A wanderer am I, somewhat wild;
“I love adventures”—here she smil'd—
“Am half a poet, half a child,
“And I am named Prince Arethuse.”
“If you seek Faeries here,” she said,
“The quest is idle, Faeries fled
“Or died when English Shakspeare died,
“And for adventures there are none,
“At least on this side of the Sun,
“And poets have more mishief done
“To life, than all the world beside.
“The quest is idle, Faeries fled
“Or died when English Shakspeare died,
“And for adventures there are none,
“At least on this side of the Sun,
“And poets have more mishief done
“To life, than all the world beside.
“But since the minstrel's rank you claim,
“And urge your right to poet's name,
“Step boldly in my faery ring;
“No witch is here with spell or charm,
“No evil eye to work you harm,
“Then sing, Sir Bard, without alarm,
“And I will pardon what you sing.”
“And urge your right to poet's name,
“Step boldly in my faery ring;
“No witch is here with spell or charm,
“No evil eye to work you harm,
“Then sing, Sir Bard, without alarm,
“And I will pardon what you sing.”
119
I laughed; the chords preluding rang,
I sang, scarce knowing what I sang,
But some wild lay of Lok or Thor;
Her race, like mine, was brave and good.
Italian half, half Northern blood,
And feeling I was understood,
I sang of love and death and war.
I sang, scarce knowing what I sang,
But some wild lay of Lok or Thor;
Her race, like mine, was brave and good.
Italian half, half Northern blood,
And feeling I was understood,
I sang of love and death and war.
Nor rest, my Harp! Nor pause, my Tale!
Small need have I to weep or wail,
Not always Sorrow comes with Love,
For that large Star that crowns the sky
Which men call Life, now shone on high,
The first to rise, the last to die,
The holiest, happiest light above.
Small need have I to weep or wail,
Not always Sorrow comes with Love,
For that large Star that crowns the sky
Which men call Life, now shone on high,
The first to rise, the last to die,
The holiest, happiest light above.
No cloud disturbed the azure calm,
The days flew by me, dropping balm,
O days so sweet, so brief, so long!
And one, the sweetest day of all,
The enchantress Memory would recall,
Now when grey shadows round me fall,
And I no more am young or strong.
The days flew by me, dropping balm,
O days so sweet, so brief, so long!
And one, the sweetest day of all,
The enchantress Memory would recall,
Now when grey shadows round me fall,
And I no more am young or strong.
I sat with her at sunset hour,
I sang to her in sunset bower,
I praised her beauty and her grace,
The wavering light of her long hair,
Her eyes, which like dark violets were;
I sang how sunshine seemed more fair,
Reflected from her glorious face.
I sang to her in sunset bower,
I praised her beauty and her grace,
The wavering light of her long hair,
Her eyes, which like dark violets were;
I sang how sunshine seemed more fair,
Reflected from her glorious face.
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And now, when voice and string were mute,
She brought me flowers, she brought me fruit,
She poured me wine, she held the glass,
Her witching air, her elfin smile,
Grace linked in grace and wile in wile,
Her kind frank look might well beguile,
A spirit of more stoic class.
She brought me flowers, she brought me fruit,
She poured me wine, she held the glass,
Her witching air, her elfin smile,
Grace linked in grace and wile in wile,
Her kind frank look might well beguile,
A spirit of more stoic class.
I took her gift, I clasped her hand,
I let the cup untasted stand,
For I had drunk of nobler wine,
I drew her to my beating breast,
I soothed her blushing fears to rest,
Sighed, Love be mine! O dreamer blest,
What echo answer'd, Love be mine?
I let the cup untasted stand,
For I had drunk of nobler wine,
I drew her to my beating breast,
I soothed her blushing fears to rest,
Sighed, Love be mine! O dreamer blest,
What echo answer'd, Love be mine?
O glorious Sound! O happy Hour!
O rose, O lily, O rare flower,
Breathing and brightening in my arms,
Rising and falling, as she lay,
With musical soft beats, and play
Of colour flushing on the day,
Thrilled with sweet pleasures, sweet alarms.
O rose, O lily, O rare flower,
Breathing and brightening in my arms,
Rising and falling, as she lay,
With musical soft beats, and play
Of colour flushing on the day,
Thrilled with sweet pleasures, sweet alarms.
'T is over now! I am alone!
The golden locks are silver grown,
'T is over, yet I am not sad;
I live with memories, sweet as Spring,
With happy Hopes that bird-like sing
In realms of which Delight is king;
I still am young, I still am glad.
The golden locks are silver grown,
'T is over, yet I am not sad;
I live with memories, sweet as Spring,
With happy Hopes that bird-like sing
In realms of which Delight is king;
I still am young, I still am glad.
121
I praise the Life in which we live,
For what it gave and yet may give;
In losses still I find great gains;
I wake each day, as one new-born,
Too fair my Past, to feel forlorn;
I hail the World's resplendent Morn,
Earth's nobler pleasures, statelier pains.
For what it gave and yet may give;
In losses still I find great gains;
I wake each day, as one new-born,
Too fair my Past, to feel forlorn;
I hail the World's resplendent Morn,
Earth's nobler pleasures, statelier pains.
O Man! O Prince that, fair and proud,
Art sunlight half, and half art cloud,
The darling of each Grace and Muse,
Dwell thou with Beauty, day and night,
In gladness which hath endless might,
A sceptred king, assert thy right,
And wear thy crown like Arethuse.
Art sunlight half, and half art cloud,
The darling of each Grace and Muse,
Dwell thou with Beauty, day and night,
In gladness which hath endless might,
A sceptred king, assert thy right,
And wear thy crown like Arethuse.
| Golden Histories, etc | |