 | Orta-undis, and other poems |  |
25
QUÆ PULCHRIOR?
I woo thee, thou bright One,
With soul and with song.
Thy praise from my bosom
Flows fervid and strong.
I'll teach thee the love
That Euridyce knew,
When the passionate hand
Of her Orpheus drew
Sweet words from his lyre.
With soul and with song.
Thy praise from my bosom
Flows fervid and strong.
I'll teach thee the love
That Euridyce knew,
When the passionate hand
Of her Orpheus drew
Sweet words from his lyre.
I seek not, (as Danæ
Jove conquered of old,)
To dazzle thy vision
With showers of gold.
No jewels I bring thee,
No titled renown.
But the lover has hope,
And the poet a crown
For the queen of his bosom.
Jove conquered of old,)
To dazzle thy vision
With showers of gold.
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No titled renown.
But the lover has hope,
And the poet a crown
For the queen of his bosom.
The blue veinéd temples
Thy soft tresses bind;
Thy knowledge, thy genius,
Thy carcanet mind;
Thy gentlest of voices,
Thy sunshiny smile,
Thy silken lashed eye-lids,
Thy lips without guile,
If e'er such were created.
Thy soft tresses bind;
Thy knowledge, thy genius,
Thy carcanet mind;
Thy gentlest of voices,
Thy sunshiny smile,
Thy silken lashed eye-lids,
Thy lips without guile,
If e'er such were created.
Thy white glancing shoulders,
Thy ivory arms—
What pencil can paint thee,
What lip chaunt thy charms!
Superb as a Queen is,
Yet gentle and kind.
Where sunny-eyed beauty,
Thy mate can I find?
(In thy heart's depth, you murmur.)
Thy ivory arms—
What pencil can paint thee,
What lip chaunt thy charms!
Superb as a Queen is,
Yet gentle and kind.
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Thy mate can I find?
(In thy heart's depth, you murmur.)
Thy soul as a lake is,
Deep, waveless, and pure.
Thy heart as an ocean
That meeteth no shore.
Thou, child of Minerva,
A Venus doth stand.
What gift shall I bring thee
To kiss the white hand
Lying passive in mine?
Deep, waveless, and pure.
Thy heart as an ocean
That meeteth no shore.
Thou, child of Minerva,
A Venus doth stand.
What gift shall I bring thee
To kiss the white hand
Lying passive in mine?
Thou knowest,—no longer,
With lance lain in rest,
The chosen one doeth
His charmer's behest.
No longer, tall nodding,
His love-lifted plume,
Floats fleet as a meteor
Through battle and gloom,
In the front of the tempest.
With lance lain in rest,
The chosen one doeth
His charmer's behest.
No longer, tall nodding,
His love-lifted plume,
Floats fleet as a meteor
Through battle and gloom,
In the front of the tempest.
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Lo, spacious and wide
Are the lists of the world,
Though corslet be rusted,
And battle-flag furled:
As matchless the glances
Of beauty—as proud
The chaplet—the voice
Of the clarion as loud,
As at Bayard's command.
Are the lists of the world,
Though corslet be rusted,
And battle-flag furled:
As matchless the glances
Of beauty—as proud
The chaplet—the voice
Of the clarion as loud,
As at Bayard's command.
We earn not these laurels
Through rage and turmoil:
No blood-stain the wreath
Of the scholar doth soil:
No tear of the anguished
Can blister that leaf
Whose winning hath cost not
One doating heart grief,
Through the breadth of the land.
Through rage and turmoil:
No blood-stain the wreath
Of the scholar doth soil:
No tear of the anguished
Can blister that leaf
Whose winning hath cost not
One doating heart grief,
Through the breadth of the land.
Oh, far, far more radiant
Olympia's crown,
Than Rome's haughty purple
Or Sylla's renown.
Thou—beautiful, glorious;
I—loveless and plain:
What can I—what must I,
Thy love to obtain,
With a hope that is dearer?
Olympia's crown,
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Or Sylla's renown.
Thou—beautiful, glorious;
I—loveless and plain:
What can I—what must I,
Thy love to obtain,
With a hope that is dearer?
I steer on an ocean
Broad, stormy and wild,
With heart of a giant,
With arm of a child.
My heaven's vast blackness
Doth hold but one star.
I worship—I woo thee,
Bright maid, from afar.
Saidest thou,—‘come then nearer?’
Broad, stormy and wild,
With heart of a giant,
With arm of a child.
My heaven's vast blackness
Doth hold but one star.
I worship—I woo thee,
Bright maid, from afar.
Saidest thou,—‘come then nearer?’
1844.
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