University of Virginia Library

Oh! listen, nymphs! to my distress;
Tell Emily! tell what wild desire
Throbs all my veins, and yet confess
I would not lose the glorious fire.
Oh listen, nymphs! in sunny wind,
Emily on the lawn reclined;
One of her beauteous arms was wound,
Embracingly her pillow round;
Her face and bosom, 'neath the sky,
Backwardly lolled, in smiles did lie;
Her face and bosom upward bending
Flushed as with virgin shames; and lending
Her hand to some caressing dream,
Over her flowing limbs it lay,
Where stricken by the sunny beam,
Around it rosy light did play:
And seemed those gently swelling limbs,
Curving at sound of warm love-hymns,
Towards fond minglement, though they
Minglement made not, but did stray
Partedly ever;—and the dress
Which fell soft o'er this loveliness,
Its glowing life all unconcealing,
Yet shaded from entire revealing,—
With witching modesty, confessing
What matchless splendour still it veiled,
Though oft the breezes, rudely pressing,
The heavenly secrecy assailed,—
And then illumed the couch of azure,
And then the air did pant and glow,
While shivering with mysterious pleasure,
Like waves her limbs did lift and flow.

Oh listen, nymphs! the sound of horn,
Over the distant mountains borne,
Disturbed her dream; Oh marvellous grace!
She moved, she raised her brightening face;
She rose against the lipping wind,
So fondly its persistings wrestling,
I almost thought she still designed,
Still to endure its boisterous nestling.
Glowing she sate; her lustrous eyes
Gave trusting thoughts to far off skies,
And sometimes glancing o'er our earth,
Blessed it with smiles whole empires worth,—
Such proud, bright, wild, caressing smiles,
With pride and love so sweetly blended,
That ever, when her gaze ascended,
I watched for one of nature's wiles
To lure it back;—or blackbird's singing,
Or childhood's shout through far woods ringing.

I glided towards her, hushed were words,
By her I knelt;—to list the birds
To watch the sky like her, I strove,
But could not, all my life did love:—
I could but gaze her blissful cheek,
The heaven of her brow I could but seek,—
The slightest varying of her look,
The gentlest movement of her form,
My nature to its centre shook
With rapturous agony; a storm
Of joy rushed o'er my startled being,—
Giving me all her gaze, and seeing
My quivering face, her eyelids fell,
Swift to her brow the crimson flew,
Her bosom heaved, her throat did swell,
Around her mouth a new smile grew;
Gasping, I sank upon the ground,
Powerless of sign, or sight, or sound.

Upon that ground her robe was spread,
And on that robe was lain my head;
Into its folds, burningly yearning,
My lips went, pouring kisses, till
I shook with ecstacy, and felt
The pulses of my life sink still,
And every energy to melt.
Time was not then; how long I lay
In that sweet death, not mine to say;
From 'neath my cheek did something move;—
Arising was my worshipped love;—
Swift to my mind a strange thought darted,
And wildly to my feet I started,
“Where lay my cheek?”—I trembling, said;—
Back three steps stepped the blushing maid,—
A short soft laugh betrayed her joy,
Her fingers with their rings did toy,
With smiling eyes the ground she eyed,
And “on my foot” her voice replied.
Then forward that divinest foot,
With the same short soft laugh she put;
I saw the sandals gaily lacing
Its gracefully arched instep; yearned—
Whilst sportively the flowers displacing,
It stroked slow the turf, whilst turned
Its smooth round ankle, very slowly,
Its inside curve out, askingly—
That it and I again were lowly,
My cheek upon it taskingly;
My lips again its smoothness pressing,
While conscious what they were caressing.
Oh! doubt not how I strove to gain
Emily's grace; all, all was vain;
Laughter alone was her reply;
“I die” I moaned,—she whispered “die;”
Still smiling smiles, she backward drew,
And bade me stay, and homeward flew.
Upon the couch where she had lain,
I sprang; it but increased my pain;
And where her cheek had pressed the pillow,
I buried mine; a little billow
Of dew gemmed velvet, told me where
Her breath had fallen, and of her hair
I found the odour;—far I flew,
Still she pursues, and still I her pursue.
Oh! when was wretchedness like mine?
Never may I be self forgiven;
Encouched upon that foot divine,
Yet ignorant that I was in heaven!
Tell; tell me, nymphs! what hopes have I?
For this, for this, did Emily fly.