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98
A PREVENTED CURE
[Ουδε γαρ ως επι το πολυ ισασιν ως προσφιλεστερως
αν αυτοις απηντησε Θανατος Αποτροπαιος η
Θανατος Παιων.]
Full filled with one still ray, the village street
At morn in summer's morningtide a wand
Of fiery gold down all its length did mete;
But fast beside the murmurous water-way
Ran mingling shine with shadow; for beyond
The river's path tall pine stems climb the steep,
Past many a fresh green frond and foxglove spray,
Ridged heights to crest, and there,
Crag-towers through clearest air
Uplift, and sheer cliff-bastions rooted deep,
Behold the vast mere-moated mountain-keep.
At morn in summer's morningtide a wand
Of fiery gold down all its length did mete;
But fast beside the murmurous water-way
Ran mingling shine with shadow; for beyond
The river's path tall pine stems climb the steep,
Past many a fresh green frond and foxglove spray,
Ridged heights to crest, and there,
Crag-towers through clearest air
Uplift, and sheer cliff-bastions rooted deep,
Behold the vast mere-moated mountain-keep.
99
Athwart that sunbeam's track a sudden flight
Flashed and was stayed. Young were his wings and fleet,
And dappled faintly as if scarce touched with light
Tangled 'mid boughs new-fledged and half-unfurled
Small leaves; but now against a glassy sheet
They dashed him, lured by crystal glittering;
And fallen before my feet, to all his world
Blind, as filmed lids drooped grey
O'er quenched bright eyes, there lay
No song-thrush more, a lifeless, piteous thing,
Slain on the threshold of his summer's spring.
Flashed and was stayed. Young were his wings and fleet,
And dappled faintly as if scarce touched with light
Tangled 'mid boughs new-fledged and half-unfurled
Small leaves; but now against a glassy sheet
They dashed him, lured by crystal glittering;
And fallen before my feet, to all his world
Blind, as filmed lids drooped grey
O'er quenched bright eyes, there lay
No song-thrush more, a lifeless, piteous thing,
Slain on the threshold of his summer's spring.
A stingless death-bolt 'twas, that unaware
With never a pang smote darkness on his day;
Yet for the hours that should have risen so fair,
And for their joyance, and their songs' dear sake,
Who but the chance would chide, and grudging say
What long delight was lost in that swift doom?
How many a drowsy lay how oft to wake
In dawn-flushed dells; to greet
How oft more dreamy-sweet
Hushed gloamings; wings how free o'er heathery bloom
That now in all the woods must find no room.
With never a pang smote darkness on his day;
Yet for the hours that should have risen so fair,
And for their joyance, and their songs' dear sake,
100
What long delight was lost in that swift doom?
How many a drowsy lay how oft to wake
In dawn-flushed dells; to greet
How oft more dreamy-sweet
Hushed gloamings; wings how free o'er heathery bloom
That now in all the woods must find no room.
A pitying hand smoothed soft the feathers dim;
The goodwife spoke: Poor thrush, these broad panes cheat
The wild birds. Caged at home we have one like him,
And whiles we'd shut all close, and let him go
To stretch his wings; but straight he'd fly and beat
And flutter against the glass, till folk would fear
He'd break his heart on it in fury. So
We durst not any more
Leave him an open door,
Lest harm some day should happen him, as here
This poor dead thing. We have kept him nigh three year.
The goodwife spoke: Poor thrush, these broad panes cheat
The wild birds. Caged at home we have one like him,
And whiles we'd shut all close, and let him go
To stretch his wings; but straight he'd fly and beat
And flutter against the glass, till folk would fear
He'd break his heart on it in fury. So
101
Leave him an open door,
Lest harm some day should happen him, as here
This poor dead thing. We have kept him nigh three year.
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