 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
13
UNA; OR, THE LOST ONE.
Her beauty, like the Churches, shone afar,
The dark Earth with her presence ever whitening;
She looked upon me like the Evening Star
Upon the Earth, with eyes forever brightening
In the keen burning gladness of their own pure lightning.
The dark Earth with her presence ever whitening;
She looked upon me like the Evening Star
Upon the Earth, with eyes forever brightening
In the keen burning gladness of their own pure lightning.
Her rich cascade of loosely pouring hair
Around her Swan-white neck like lilies blowing,
In wavy gold broke on her bosom bare
In billowy ringlets—then, more stream-like growing,
Over her shoulders, prone, down to her feet went flowing.
Around her Swan-white neck like lilies blowing,
In wavy gold broke on her bosom bare
In billowy ringlets—then, more stream-like growing,
Over her shoulders, prone, down to her feet went flowing.
Like some bright Angel out of Paradise,
With passionate lightnings full of mildest splendor,
Her soul looked through the Heaven of her blue eyes,
Subdued, like Violets by the dew, to render
Their heart-dissolving looks, thereby, more heavenly tender.
With passionate lightnings full of mildest splendor,
Her soul looked through the Heaven of her blue eyes,
Subdued, like Violets by the dew, to render
Their heart-dissolving looks, thereby, more heavenly tender.
Her soft, voluptuous Aphroditean limbs
Were clothed with beauty as the Moon with splendor—
Which, like the Harmonies of heavenly Hymns
Swelling from Angel's lips to shapes most tender—
Their soft, impassioned movement seemed with grace to render
Were clothed with beauty as the Moon with splendor—
Which, like the Harmonies of heavenly Hymns
Swelling from Angel's lips to shapes most tender—
Their soft, impassioned movement seemed with grace to render
The air around all warmly musical—
Dissolving, silently, the Heavens above her,
Like an incarnate Moon majestical—
As if the soul was music that did move her,
And, Pleiad-like, could bring the Gods from Heaven to love her.
Dissolving, silently, the Heavens above her,
Like an incarnate Moon majestical—
As if the soul was music that did move her,
And, Pleiad-like, could bring the Gods from Heaven to love her.
And thus she lived an Exile out of Heaven,
Ever expecting to return as surely
As if she knew that God had only given
Her life to try her if she could live purely—
The only way that she could Heaven possess securely.
Ever expecting to return as surely
As if she knew that God had only given
Her life to try her if she could live purely—
The only way that she could Heaven possess securely.
14
For she looked ever thence, as if she knew
Heaven was her Home—forevermore imploring,
In acts all grateful unto me as dew
To the parched flowers—(from grief my soul restoring)—
Her God to take her back with songs of pure adoring.
Heaven was her Home—forevermore imploring,
In acts all grateful unto me as dew
To the parched flowers—(from grief my soul restoring)—
Her God to take her back with songs of pure adoring.
She ruled my soul with her mild regent will,
As does the Moon the Sea with influences—
As queenlike as if she were sitting still
In Heaven, upon the highest seat, in trances
Of rapture, listening to the Angel-excellences.
As does the Moon the Sea with influences—
As queenlike as if she were sitting still
In Heaven, upon the highest seat, in trances
Of rapture, listening to the Angel-excellences.
A golden stream of purest Poetry
Flowed from her lips in Pythian inspiration—
Storming my heart, with its deep melody,
To love immortal as her jubilation—
Which ruled my thoughts within as God rules the creation.
Flowed from her lips in Pythian inspiration—
Storming my heart, with its deep melody,
To love immortal as her jubilation—
Which ruled my thoughts within as God rules the creation.
Her eyes were like two Violets bathed in dew,
Upon one lily-bed, now close together,
As if just melted out of Heaven's own blue,
Wherein two stars, unmelted, burned, or, rather,
Sparkled, which made them look like rain in fairest weather.
Upon one lily-bed, now close together,
As if just melted out of Heaven's own blue,
Wherein two stars, unmelted, burned, or, rather,
Sparkled, which made them look like rain in fairest weather.
An incarnation of immortal Day,
Forever cloudless, yet, forever raining—
Whose heart in its own love did melt away—
Making her look like Happiness complaining
Of her own joy—too great for her pure soul's sustaining.
Forever cloudless, yet, forever raining—
Whose heart in its own love did melt away—
Making her look like Happiness complaining
Of her own joy—too great for her pure soul's sustaining.
An incarnation of immortal love,
Forever happy, yet, forever weeping,—
Glad that she was God's Angel from above,
But wept that she was, through her body, keeping
The dark world bright, when she should Heaven above be reaping.
Forever happy, yet, forever weeping,—
Glad that she was God's Angel from above,
But wept that she was, through her body, keeping
The dark world bright, when she should Heaven above be reaping.
15
Out of the lutestrings of her heart she wove,
Like Israfel in Heaven, with he sweet singing,
A subtle web of Poesy, which Love
Around my heart then wound, wherewith, upspringing,
She to the Mount of Fame her way with me went winging.
Like Israfel in Heaven, with he sweet singing,
A subtle web of Poesy, which Love
Around my heart then wound, wherewith, upspringing,
She to the Mount of Fame her way with me went winging.
Then, from their rosy nest in her pure heart,
Her snow-white, dove-winged thoughts to Heaven went soaring—
Climbing, with unpremeditated Art,
From star to star, up to the sun, downpouring
A deluge of deep song with Angel-like adoring.
Her snow-white, dove-winged thoughts to Heaven went soaring—
Climbing, with unpremeditated Art,
From star to star, up to the sun, downpouring
A deluge of deep song with Angel-like adoring.
Then, as the young Moon wanes into the night,
Leaving all dark that was before enshrouded
In soft, diaphanous, Angel-vesture, white—
So did her dying song leave me enclouded
In the dark night of grief, which then my heart encrowded!
Leaving all dark that was before enshrouded
In soft, diaphanous, Angel-vesture, white—
So did her dying song leave me enclouded
In the dark night of grief, which then my heart encrowded!
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |