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Crown'd with two grey ethereal towers,
That flamelike rise near sapphire seas,
Sleeps, cradled low in glimmering bowers,
The lordly mansion of the Leighs.
Here, flowerlike mid a thousand flowers,
Life opened to the sun and breeze,
And here, in mingling light and shade
Of old enchanted realms, a wondering child, I play'd.

123

II

Here once, on slopes of sunny lawn,
I heard the thronèd angels sing,
Or danc'd before the golden dawn,
That heralded the rainbow Spring;
Here once I mocked the piping Faun,
Or, faylike, trod the fairy ring,
Or climbed the purple hills of youth,
And dreamt, as yet I dream, that Beauty dwells with Truth.

III

One vernal morn entranced I stood,
Beside that grey ancestral hall,
When the sweet life of field and wood
Was waking to the young wind's call,
When Spring brought all things fair and good,
And yet some Fear hung over all.
“Ah! surely He whom no one sees
“Moves in the wind,” I cried, “and whispers to the trees.”

IV

A large slow cloud majestic sail'd
From east to west across the sky;
A splendour in that cloud was veil'd,
A light as of Eternity.
I looked, my trembling spirit fail'd;
I crouch'd—with dazzled, wilder'd eye,
I look'd again. From east to west
The slow majestic cloud sail'd onward to his rest.

124

V

The sun set. Bright with ruby and gold,
The Heaven lay open'd, door on door,
Till glory beyond glory told
Of what no sunrise can restore;
Of joy too rare for mortal mould,
Of love once felt, but felt no more.
“And who is this,” I cried aloud,
“That in the sunset dwells, and moves in wind and cloud?”

VI

A power from that lone secret One,
A light, a music filled my soul,
And beauty, born of star and sun,
Clasp'd me with wild and sweet control.
No fear had I when Day was done,
No care at morn, at noon no dole;
All Duty then was love and joy,
And God from rose and rainbow looked upon the Boy.

VII

Such was my vernal prime. I seem'd
Companionless, yet not alone:
A moving wonder o'er me gleam'd
The Sun; a radiance not their own
Clothed the white clouds; the forest dream'd,
Moon-charm'd; strange light was round me thrown;
With gods I walked and godlike powers,
In silent changeless joy that reckons not by hours.

125

VIII

No sense was then of time or space,
Scarce difference seemed 'twixt man and thing.
All life had one eternal face,
And season was there none but spring.
The world was mine: a royal grace
Was with me, and I walk'd a king—
Yea, thought and felt and did as one
Whose days would never end, and never had begun.

IX

From life's green April, pale and dead,
There bloom'd such bliss as poet knows,
When first those gorgeous tales I read,
Of old Arabian joys and woes;
Fair time! when Hope with Fancy wed,
When life yet breath'd of lily and rose!
How reign'd I then, my throne a tree,
The lord of all that live and all that lifeless be!

X

The lord of beauty and of love,
The emperor of all rare delights!
No flower below, no star above,
No odour blown down Indian nights,
No soaring eagle, plaining dove,
No fountain that to sleep invites,
No mine that burns with gold and gem,
No palm, no rose, no grape, but I was lord of them.

126

XI

Lord was I of all ebon slaves,
Lord was I of all secret springs,
Lord of all deep purpureal waves,
Lord of all magic lamps and rings,
Lord of grey prophesying caves,
Lord of enthroned and sceptred kings,
Lord of resplendent isles that gleam
Beneath large floating moons, silent and fair as dream.

XII

And as thro' light and flowers I sail'd,
Thro' marble arches quaint and rare,
Still blew the breeze nor music fail'd,
To rise and fall and rise in air,
And when the pilot wind prevailed,
I flew past islands, starry-fair,
Or paused by some low yellow strand,
With pausing winds to greet the lady of the land.

XIII

Rose-scented was the turf I press'd,
Far-off I heard the bulbul sing,
And ever as I dropp'd to rest,
Slow dancing round me, ring in ring,
With floating arm and dazzling breast,
Sweet women breathing of the Spring,
Lull'd me in dreams of beauty rare,
White wavering limb, smooth cheek, and long delicious hair.

127

XIV

Life chang'd once more. I mus'd alone,
But not in sunlight or in breeze,
For, night and day, a hollow moan
Disturb'd my old voluptuous ease,
And cries of souls in bale that groan,
Rose like a wind o'er lonely leas,
And warning voices spoke aloud,
And prophets pale as death that walk'd in fire and cloud.

XV

I saw the Elohim when they made
The heaven and earth: I saw the light
Break over chaos, and the shade
Which cloth'd the first mysterious night,
I saw the fields where angels play'd,
I saw the kine that on the height
Of Pison's soft blue mountains low'd,
Or waded where the streams thro' Gihon's valley flow'd.

XVI

I saw the first fair woman stand
With the first man before the sun,
I saw them lingering hand in hand,
Down Eden's bowers, forlorn, undone,
While all the roses of the land
Hung fading round them, one by one;
Then wept, like them, but wept in vain,
The childhood of the world that ne'er shall come again.

128

XVII

“Come back,”I cried, “ye happy Hours
“Of the great gardener's golden time!”
I too would worship Heaven with flowers,

See Goethe's “Wahrheit und Dichtung,” end of book i. vol. xx. Stuttgardt and Tübingen, 1840; or see the biography of the great German poet by Mr. G. H. Lewes.

“Unable to ascribe a form to the Deity, he resolved to seek Him in his works, and, in the good old Bible fashion, to build an altar to Him,” etc.—(“Life and Works of Goethe,” vol i. p. 33.)

Like Adam in his sinless prime;
And what tho' these degenerate Bowers
Lack the sweet growth of Eden's clime,
To pastoral shrine I yet may bring
The fragrance and the bloom that crown departing spring.

XVIII

A childish thought! yet all the day
I heap'd the flowery turf on high,
And broad and fair my altar lay,
When in the morning's softening sky,
The bird of hope, his rapturous lay
Sang to the sun, less glad than I;
Less glad than I, who from dim bowers
Pluck'd the round shining fruits and young rejoicing flowers.

XIX

Pluck'd sun-dyed apples drenched in dew,
Pluck'd strawberries crimson-cored and ripe,
Cull'd odorous flowers of splendid hue,
Prank'd with gold star or purple stripe;
And ever while fair breezes blew,
Poured, from one soft melodious pipe,
Sweet solemn warblings, as of old
The men that worshipp'd Pan, when rivers ran with gold.

129

XX

These primal offerings, sweet as fair,
I laid on that first sylvan shrine,
With prayer and vow, and hope that prayer
Would herald me to worlds divine,—
“Speak, wandering daughter of the air,
“Burn, burn in heaven, prophetic sign!”
Vain, vain were words, reply was none,
No voice in earth or air, or token in the sun.

XXI

“The curse,” I said, “is on me now,
“My sacrifice is that of Cain.
“I feel upon my burning brow
“The mystic brand of guilty pain.”
My blood beat wildly to and fro,
A fire leapt in my heart and brain,
The noise of bells was in my ears,
And on the earth I fell, subdued by thronging fears.

XXII

I could not weep, I could not pray,
But watch'd the clouds, as, one and all,
They melted in the soft blue day;
Till, was it dream? or did there fall,
Near the green covert where I lay,
Swath'd among flowers and grasses tall,
A silver shaft, while hunter's cry,
And bugle notes rang round, and quiver'd forms swept by?

130

XXIII

I rose from out my altar-nook
Of flowers and leaves, and swift as light,
I sprang to where, near hidden brook,
The flying feather drew my sight,
And as the fairy prize I took,
The bugle pealed o'er vale and height,
And from the forest's opening fold,
The exulting archers burst as in the days of old.

XXIV

And one, green-mantled like the glade,
Of which she almost seemed a part,
Leapt lightly from that forest shade,
And with wild beauty witch'd my heart.
In golden light her tresses play'd,
Her vest was worn with careless art,-
On one white arm a bow she bore,
And on her shoulders white an ivory quiver wore.

XXV

Half laughing, yet half serious too,
This younger Cynthia of the Chase,
With golden hair and eyes of blue,
Stood near, and ask'd with pleading grace,-
“What care, what grief hath fall'n on you?”
And while she gazed into my face
Still with a gentle grandeur smiled,
As she my elder were, a queen yet still a child.

131

XXVI

I could not choose but tell that grief;
And now she laughed, and now she frown'd,
Now dropp'd her bow, and now the sheaf,
Wherein her silver shafts were bound,
And whispered low, “Nor flower, nor leaf,
“Nor flute, nor pipe's low liquid sound,
“True worship are, but to be good,
“And love the Life that dwells in meadow and in wood.”

XXVII

“But sin,” said I; “But love,” said she;
“But that old Eden-world,” I cried;
“But this new world of sky and sea,
“This dear good earth,” the Child replied.
“Here streams of gold shall flow for thee,
“And here in vale and mountain-side,
“A truer Eden thou shalt find,
“And leave that dead old Eden fading far behind.”

XXVIII

She ceas'd, and twixt a smile and sigh,
I answer'd, “'T is no fable then,
“No echo of fond poet's lie,
“That tells how angels visit men.”
“No angel, but an archer, I,”
Laughed the green lady of the glen;
And half in sunshine, half in shade,
All glimmering in her hat, the peacock-feather play'd.

132

XXIX

“O stand,” I cried, “fair Dian, stand,
“Unheeded let thy bugles blow,
“Till I, by grace of Fairyland,
“Fit silver-shaft to silver bow.
She, curtseying, said, Not Oberon's hand,
“Could dearer gift than thine bestow,
“My silver shaft, my constant prize,
“For ever to the mark Maid Marian's arrow flies”

XXX

“Maid Marian!” said I. “Yes, she cried,
“For here still lives my forest fame,
“Here mountain-shade and river-side,
“Still echo with Maid Marian's name.
“Where green leaves dance, where rivulets glide,
“Where shadows play their ghostly game,
“Companion of the hawk and hern,
“I feed my sylvan love for fox-glove and for fern.

See Peacock's Tale of Maid Marian for this love of the fox-glove and the fern, at the end of one of the chapters.

XXXI

“But soft,” she cried. “I linger here,
“While chief and comrade wondering wait;
“Hark, far and near, and loud and clear,
“The bugles peal from tower and gate.
“Now, as you hold Maid Marian dear,
“By Locksley Hall, at stroke of eight,
“Meet me to-morrow.” Mute I stood,
The fairy vision fled, slow-fading down the wood.

The Arabian Nights' Entertainments.