University of Virginia Library

What time the Norman ruled in Sicily
At that mild season when the vernal sea
Is ruffled only by the zephyrs gay,
A goodly ship set sail upon her way
From Ceos unto Smyrna; through the calm
She passed by sunny islands crowned with palm,
Until, so witching tender was the breeze,
So drugged the hours with balms of slumb'rous case,
That they who manned her, in the genial air
And dalliance of the time, forgot the care
Due to her courses; in the warm sunshine
They lay enchanted, dreaming dreams divine,
Whilst drifting heedless on the halcyon water
The bark obeyed whatever currents caught her.

Borne onward thus for many a charméd day,
They reach at length a wide and wooded bay,
The haunt of birds, whose purpling wings, in flight,
Made even the gold-hued morning seem more bright,
Flushed as with darting rainbows; through the tide
By the o'erripe pomegranate juices dyed,
And laving boughs of the wild fig, and grape,
Great shoals of dazzling fishes madly ape
The play of silver lightnings in the deep
Translucent pools; the crew awoke from sleep,
Or, rather, that strange trance which on them pressed
Gently as sleep; yet still they seemed to rest,
Fanned by voluptuous gales, by Morphean languors blessed.

The shore sloped upward into foliaged hills
Cleft by the channels of a maze of rills
That sent their clarion voices clear, and loud,
Up to the answering eagle in the cloud;
Green vales there were between, and pleasant lawns
Thick-set with blooms, like sheen of tropic dawns
Brightening the Orient; further still, the glades
Of murmurous forests flecked with golden shades
Stretched glimmering southward; on the woods' far rim,
Faintly discerned through veiling vapors, dim
As mists of Indian summer, the wide view
Was clasped by mountains flickering in the blue
And hazy distance;—over all there hung
The morn's eternal beauty calm and young.

Amidst the throng that gazed with wondering faces
On that fair Eden, and its fairy graces,
Was one—Avolio—a brave youth of Florence,
Self-exiled from his country, in abhorrence
Of the base, blood-stained tyrants dominant there;—
A gentleman he was, of gracious air,
And liberal as the summer, skilled in lore
Of arms, and chivalry, and many more
Deep sciences, which others left unlearned.
He loved adventure; how his spirit burned
Within him, when, as now, a chance arose
To search untravelled forests, and strange foes
Vanquish by púissance of knightly blows,
Or, rescue maidens from malignant spells
Enforced by hordes of wizard sentinels:
So, in the ardor of his martial glee
He clapped his hands, and shouted suddenly:
“Ho! Sirs! a challenge! let us pierce these woods
Down to the core; explore the solitudes,
And make this flowery empire all our own;
Who knows but we may conquer us a throne?
At least, bold feats await us, grand emprise
To win us favor in our ladies' eyes;—
By Heaven! he is a coward who delays!”

So saying, all his countenance ablaze
With fiery zeal, the youth sprang lightly up,
And with right lusty motion filled a cup
(They brought him straightway) to the glistening brim
With Cyprus wine:—“Now glory unto him
Whom, bent on gallant deeds, no danger daunts,
Whose constant soul a constant impulse haunts
Which spurs him onward, onward, to the end;
Pledge we the Brave! and may St. Ermo send
Success to crown our valiantest!” this said,
Avolio shoreward leaped, and with him led
The whole ship's company.

A motley band
Were they who mustered; 'round him on the strand,
Mixed knights, and traders; the first, fired for toil
Which promised glory; the last, hot—for spoil.
Through breezy paths, and beds of blossoming thyme
Kept fresh by secret springs, the showery chime
Of whose clear falling waters in the dells,
Played like an airy peal of elfin bells,
With eager minds, but aimless, idle feet,
(The scene about them was so lone, and sweet,
It spelled their steps), 'mid labyrinths of flowers,
By mossy streams, and in deep shadowed bowers,
They strayed from charm to charm through lengths of languid hours.

In thickets of wild fern and rustling broom,
The humble-bee buzzed past them with a boom
Of insect thunder, and in glens afar
The golden fire-fly, a small, animate star,
Shone from the twilight of the darkling leaves.
High noon it was, but dusk, like mellow eve's,
Reigned in the wood's deep places, whence it seemed
That flushing locks, and quick arch glances gleamed,
From eyes scarce human; thus the fancy deemed
Of those most given to marvels; the rest laughed
A merry jeering laugh, and many a shaft
Launched from the Norman cross-bow pierced the nooks,
Or cleft the shallow channels of the brooks,
Whence, as the credulous swore, an Oread shy,
And a glad Nymph, had peeped out laughingly.

Thus wandering, they reached a sombre mound
Rising abruptly from the level ground,
And planted thick with dark funereal trees,
Whose foliage waved and murmured, though the breeze
Had sunk to midnight quiet, and the sky
Just o'er the place seemed locked in apathy,
Like a fair face wan with the sudden stroke
Of death, or heart-break; not a word they spoke,
But paused with wide, bewildered, gleaming eyes,
Standing at gaze: what mortal terrors rise
And coil about their hearts with serpent fold;
And O! what loathly scene is this they hold,
Grasped with unwinking vision, as they creep,
(Led by their very horror,) up the steep,
And the whole preternatural landscape dawns
Freezingly on them; a broad stretch of lawns
Sown with rank poisonous grasses, whence the dew
Of hovering exhalations flickered blue,
And wavering on the dead-still atmosphere;
Dead-still it was, and yet the grasses sere,
Stirred as with horrid life amidst the sickening glare!

The affrighted crew (all save Avolio) fled
Incontinent, but his dull feet with lead
Seemed freighted; whilst his terror whispered “fly,”
The spell of some uncouth necessity
Baffled retreat, and ruthless, scourged him on;
Meanwhile the sun thro' darkening vapors shone
Nigh to his setting, and a sudden blast—
Sudden and chill—woke shrilly up and passed
With ghostly din, and tumult; airy sounds
Of sylvan horns, and sweep of circling hounds
Nearing the quarry: now, the wizard chase
Swept faintly, faintly up the fields of space,
And now, with backward rushing whirl roared by
Louder, and fiercer, till a maddening cry,
A bitter shrick of human agony
Leaped up, and died, amidst the stifling yell
Of brutes athirst for blood: a crowning swell
Of savage triumph followed, mixed with wails
Sad as the dying songs of nightingales
Murmuring the name—Actaeon!

Even as one—
A 'rapt sleep-walker—through the shadows dun
Of half-oblivious sense, with soulless gaze
Goes idly journeying 'midst uncertain ways,
Thus did Avolio, sore perplexed in mind,
(Excess of mystery made his spirit blind,)
Grope through the gloom; anon he reached a fount
Whose watery columns had long ceased to mount
Above its prostrate Tritons: near at hand,
Dammed up in part by heaps of yellow sand,—
Dead-white, and lustreless,—a rivulet
Of oozy banks, with dank dark alders set,
Blurred in its turbid tides the o'erhanging sky;
The melancholy waters seemed to sigh
In wailful murmurs of articulate woe,
And struggling from the sullen depths below.
This dirge arose:—

SONG OF THE IMPRISONED NAIAD.

The mournful sounds swooned off, but Echo rose
And bore them up divinely to a close
Of rare mysterious sweetness; never more
Shall mortal winds to listening wood and shore,
Bring such heart-melting music: “Where, O! where!”
Avolio murmured, “to what haunted sphere
Hath dubious Fate my errant footsteps brought?”
Launched on a baffling sea of mystic thought,
His reason in a whirling chaos lost
Compass and chart, and headway, vaguely tossed
'Midst flitting shapes of wingéd phantasies;—
Just then uplifting his bewildered eyes,
He saw—half hid in shade—the pillars grand,
Of a great gateway reared on either hand,
And close beyond them, nested in a wood
Of stern áspect, a sombrous mansion stood:
Long wreaths of ghastly ivy on its walls
Quivered like goblin tapestry, or palls,
Tattered and rusty, mildewed in the chill
Of dreadful vaults; across each window-sill
Curtains of weird device and fiery hue
Hung moveless,—only when the sun glanced through
The gathering glooms, the hieroglyphs took form,
And life, and action, and the whole grew warm
With meanings baffling to Avolio's sense:—
He stood expectant, trembling, with intense
Dread in his eyes, and yet a struggling faith
Vital at heart;—a sudden-passing breath
Of mystic wind thrilled by his tingling ear,
Waving the curtains inward, and his fear
Uprose victorians, for a serpent shape,
Tall, lithe, and writhing, with malignant gape,
Which showed its fiery fangs, hissed in the gleam
Its own fell eyeballs kindled; oh! supreme
The horror of that vision! as he gazed,
Irresolute, mute, motionless, amazed,
The monster disappeared; a moment sped!
The next, it fawned before him on a bed
Of scarlet poppies. “Speak!” Avolio said,
“What art thou? speak! I charge thee in God's name;”

A death-cold shudder seized the Serpent's frame;
Its huge throat writhed; whence, bubbling with a throe
Of hideous import, a voice, thin and low,
Broke like a mudded rill: “Bethink thee well!
This Isle is Cos, of which old legends tell
Such marvels. Hast thou never heard of me,—
The Island's fated Queen?” “Ay! verily!”
Avolio cried, “thou art that thing of dread!”—
Sharply the Serpent raised its glittering head
And front tempestuous. “Hold! no tongue save mine
Shall solve that mystery! prithee then, incline
Thine ear to the sad story of my grief,
And with thine ear, yield, yield me thy belief;—
Foul as I am, there was a time, O! youth!
When these fierce eyes were founts of love and truth;
There was a time when woman's blooming grace
Glowed through the flush of roses in my face;
When,—but I sinned a deep and damning sin,—
I cursed the great Diana! I defied
The night's immaculate goddess, argent-eyed,
And holiest of Immortals! I denied
The eternal might which looks so cold and calm;—
Therefore, O! stranger! am I what I am;
A monster meet for Tartarus! a thing
Whereon men gaze with awe and shuddering,
And stress of inward terror; through all time,
Down to the last age, my abhorréd crime
Must hold me prisoner in this vile abode,
Unless some man, large-hearted as a god,
Bolder than Ajax, mercifully deign
To kiss me on the mouth!”
She towered amain
With sparkling crest, and universal thrill
Of frenzied eagerness that seemed to fill
Her cavernous eyes with jets of lurid fire;—
“And if I do accord thee thy desire,”
Rejoined Avolio, “what sure guage have I,
That this same kiss thy cursed destiny
Hath not ordained—the least elaborate plan
Whereby to snare and slay me?” “O! man! man!”
The Serpent answered with a loftier mien,
The while her voice grew mild, her front serene,
“Shall Matter always triumph; the base mould
Mask the immortal essence, uncontrolled
Save by your grovelling fancies? O! eterne,
And grand Benignities that breathe and burn
Throughout Creation, are we but the motes
In some vain dream that idly sways and floats
To nothingness; or, are your grandeurs pent
Within ourselves, to rise magnificent
In bloom and music, when we bend above,
And wake them by the kisses of our love?
I yearn to be made beautiful; alas!
Beauty itself looks on prepared to pass
In callous disbelief! one action kind,
Would free and save me,—Why art thou so blind
Avolio?” While she spoke, two timorous hares
Seared by a threatening falcon from their lairs,
Rushed to the Serpent's side; with fondling tongue
She soothed them as a mother soothes her young.

Avolio mused. “Can innocent things like these
Take refuge by her? then perchance some good,
Some tenderness, if rightly understood,
Lurks in her nature. I will do the deed;
Christ and the Virgin save me at my need!”

He signed the monster nearer, closed his eyes,
And with some natural shuddering, some deep sighs,
Gave up his pallid lips to the foul kiss.
What followed then?—a traitorous serpent hiss
Sharper for triumph? O! not so—he felt
A warm, rich, clinging mouth approach and melt
In languid, loving sweetness on his own,
And two fond arms caressingly were thrown
About his neck, and on his bosom pressed
Twin lilies of a pure-white virgin breast.
He raised his eyes, released from brief despair,—
They rested on a maiden tall and fair,
Fair as the tropic morn, when morn is new;
And her sweet glances smote him through and through
With such keen-thrilling rapture, that he swore
His willing heart should evermore adore
Such loveliness, and woo her till he died.

“I am thine own,” she said, “thine own dear bride,
If thou wilt take me.” Hand in hand they strayed
Adown the shadows through the woodland glade,
Whence every evil Influence shrank afraid,
And round them poured the golden eventide.

Swiftly the news of this most strange event
Abroad upon the tell-tale wind was sent,
Rousing the eager world to wonderment.

Now 'mid the various companies that came
To visit Cos, was that leal knight by Fame
Exalted, for brave deeds, and faith divine,
Shown in the sacred wars of Palestine,—
Tancred, Salerno's Prince; he came in state,
With fourscore gorgeous barges, small and great;
With pomp and music like an Ocean Fate,
His blazoned prows along the glimmering sea
Spread like an Eastern sunrise gloriously.

Him and his followers did Avolio feast
Right royally, but when the mirth increased,
And joyous-wingéd jests began to pass
Above the sparkling cups of Hippocras,
Tancred arose, and in his courtly phrase
Invoked delight, and length of prosperous days,
To crown that happy union; one sole doubt
The Prince confessed, and this he dared speak out,—
“It could not be that their sweet hostess still
Worshipped Diana, and her heathen will?”
“O! Sir, not so!” Avolio flushing cried,
“But Christ the Lord!” No single word replied
The beauteous lady, but with gentle pride,
And a quick motion to Avolio's side
She drew more closely by a little space,
Gazing with modest passion in his face,
As one who longed to whisper tenderly,
“O! brave, kind Heart! I worship only thee!”