 | Days and Hours |  |
196
TO PHANTASY.
I
O charming Sprite, if thou wilt let thee down
On beam, or sunbow from the morning sky,
And shape thy bodiless Divinity
But for a day, I'll give thee for thine own
A Summer seat, where choicest dreams shall crown
Thy noonday musing; rock-born waters chime
Oblivion, and the wingless Zephyrs climb
But half the boughs by odors overthrown:
On beam, or sunbow from the morning sky,
And shape thy bodiless Divinity
But for a day, I'll give thee for thine own
A Summer seat, where choicest dreams shall crown
Thy noonday musing; rock-born waters chime
Oblivion, and the wingless Zephyrs climb
But half the boughs by odors overthrown:
Here ev'n by day a holy silence broods,
Save when the Wind a-dream among the woods
Wakes suddenly, and from green gulphs below
Wafts up the sweet sighs of their hidden flowers,
Sending a blissful shudder thro' the bowers,
With the low song of rivulets in their flow,
And then long hours again without a breath,
But the lone lovesong of the doves beneath.
Save when the Wind a-dream among the woods
Wakes suddenly, and from green gulphs below
Wafts up the sweet sighs of their hidden flowers,
Sending a blissful shudder thro' the bowers,
With the low song of rivulets in their flow,
And then long hours again without a breath,
But the lone lovesong of the doves beneath.
197
II
Thro' garden groves which haughty Mountains save
From the wild World, and many a curving path
Tented with purpling vines o'ercomes the wrath
Of the noon Sun, and gurgling runnels lave,
I'll bear thee o'er flower'd mosses to a cave,
Where the fierce light shall faint and die away
To deepest night, thro' twilights soft and gray,
But thou shalt hear far off the rippling wave.
From the wild World, and many a curving path
Tented with purpling vines o'ercomes the wrath
Of the noon Sun, and gurgling runnels lave,
I'll bear thee o'er flower'd mosses to a cave,
Where the fierce light shall faint and die away
To deepest night, thro' twilights soft and gray,
But thou shalt hear far off the rippling wave.
I will unsandal thine immortal feet
Amid the dimness of this hush'd retreat,
And set them on a plot of dewy green
So fresh to look on, and so soft to feel,
The very sight, and touch of it shall heal
Thy soul o'ertask'd with glories it hath seen;
And serve thee under gloom of shadows cold
A flashing drink in cups of woven gold.
Amid the dimness of this hush'd retreat,
And set them on a plot of dewy green
So fresh to look on, and so soft to feel,
The very sight, and touch of it shall heal
Thy soul o'ertask'd with glories it hath seen;
And serve thee under gloom of shadows cold
A flashing drink in cups of woven gold.
198
III
Far off blown boughs shall dapple the deep sward
With glooms, and thro' the leaves gold shafts shall lean
Of peremptory light, and on the green
Touch the dim flowers with blandest Summer stirr'd,
Or the swift glitter of a passing bird;
And, ere the shadows swallow up the light,
Thine eye shall seize the momentary flight
Of eager hunters streaming by unheard.
With glooms, and thro' the leaves gold shafts shall lean
Of peremptory light, and on the green
Touch the dim flowers with blandest Summer stirr'd,
Or the swift glitter of a passing bird;
And, ere the shadows swallow up the light,
Thine eye shall seize the momentary flight
Of eager hunters streaming by unheard.
Thro' the fresh leafage near thee thou shalt gaze
O'er the far champaign with its busy ways;
And catch the stir of life—the strife, the song,
The triumph—see the silent gleam of arms,
And soft as music hear their wild alarms,
See funerals pass, and bridals, as they throng
The temple gate—all things shall reach thee there
Wrapp'd in soft mantle of the distant air.
O'er the far champaign with its busy ways;
And catch the stir of life—the strife, the song,
The triumph—see the silent gleam of arms,
And soft as music hear their wild alarms,
See funerals pass, and bridals, as they throng
The temple gate—all things shall reach thee there
Wrapp'd in soft mantle of the distant air.
199
IV
When 'twixt dark holes and twinkling leaves is seen
The throbbing light, and dizzy shapes are spun
Out of the restless boughs, and westering sun,
Thou wilt behold pale Daphne run between
The evening trees with flown locks, or the Queen
Of Maidenhood go by with horn and hound,
Or Pan start up from slumber to the sound,
Or rose-wreathed Mænads whirl across the green:
The throbbing light, and dizzy shapes are spun
Out of the restless boughs, and westering sun,
Thou wilt behold pale Daphne run between
The evening trees with flown locks, or the Queen
Of Maidenhood go by with horn and hound,
Or Pan start up from slumber to the sound,
Or rose-wreathed Mænads whirl across the green:
Or Ariadne with one shoulder bare,
Her mantle torn, like beautiful Despair,
Forlorn, and wan, and mad with griefs and fears,
While the crush'd roses wound her flying heels,
Shunning the shouts, and riot, and onward wheels
Of the young God who seeks her in her tears,
And with an eye lit like an evening star
Flush'd Evan bending to her from his car.
Her mantle torn, like beautiful Despair,
Forlorn, and wan, and mad with griefs and fears,
While the crush'd roses wound her flying heels,
Shunning the shouts, and riot, and onward wheels
Of the young God who seeks her in her tears,
And with an eye lit like an evening star
Flush'd Evan bending to her from his car.
200
V
When o'er the West the ruddy bands are lying,
And dark the groves without, and darker still
The gloom within—thine ever eager will,
Thy lens of wonder, and rapt vision prying
Will see sweet shapes across the shadows flying;
And haply Cytherea with wild hair,
And lamp, that shows her beauty wan with care,
In piteous quest of her Adonis dying.
And dark the groves without, and darker still
The gloom within—thine ever eager will,
Thy lens of wonder, and rapt vision prying
Will see sweet shapes across the shadows flying;
And haply Cytherea with wild hair,
And lamp, that shows her beauty wan with care,
In piteous quest of her Adonis dying.
And, when the Day is ended, thou wilt come
Forth from thy grot into the starlit gloom;
For when the Sun is fallen from the skies,
Thou hearest the far voices of the Past
Like midnight bells that murmur o'er a waste,
Its mirth, its songs, its laughters, and its sighs;
And lov'st to listen to the distant Sea
Uttering dark thunders, like Eternity.
Forth from thy grot into the starlit gloom;
For when the Sun is fallen from the skies,
Thou hearest the far voices of the Past
Like midnight bells that murmur o'er a waste,
Its mirth, its songs, its laughters, and its sighs;
And lov'st to listen to the distant Sea
Uttering dark thunders, like Eternity.
201
VI
Upon a cushion of the rich red rose
I'll lay thy head, with flowers of jasmin pale,
That ev'n in sleep thy spirit shall inhale
Their blisses with the westwind as it flows
Into the shadowy place of thy repose,
And thou shalt dream such dreams as shall remain
To-morrow like rare music in thy brain,
And charm the weary-hearted of their woes.
I'll lay thy head, with flowers of jasmin pale,
That ev'n in sleep thy spirit shall inhale
Their blisses with the westwind as it flows
Into the shadowy place of thy repose,
And thou shalt dream such dreams as shall remain
To-morrow like rare music in thy brain,
And charm the weary-hearted of their woes.
I ask no other guerdon for my love,
Than to lie hidden near thee in the grove,
To hear thee touch thy harp, to hear thee sing,
Or sigh, or whisper with the wind and stream;
Or sleeping, snatch from under the white wing
That veils thine eyes, the murmurs of thy dream;
But, ere thou partest, Goddess, wise and fair,
Spare me one leaf of Amaranth from thine hair.
Than to lie hidden near thee in the grove,
To hear thee touch thy harp, to hear thee sing,
Or sigh, or whisper with the wind and stream;
Or sleeping, snatch from under the white wing
That veils thine eyes, the murmurs of thy dream;
But, ere thou partest, Goddess, wise and fair,
Spare me one leaf of Amaranth from thine hair.
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