 | Griselda |  |
257
ARISTIPPUS.
Let be,—let be!
These idle follies are not for the wise,
A scholar's loves are fair philosophies;
I prithee leave me free!
These idle follies are not for the wise,
A scholar's loves are fair philosophies;
I prithee leave me free!
Nay, Lady, nay!
I read Greek legends sweeter than thy song,—
Uncourteous! thou tarriest overlong;
I marvel at thy stay.
I read Greek legends sweeter than thy song,—
Uncourteous! thou tarriest overlong;
I marvel at thy stay.
What! the tears glisten?
Indeed I would not wound thy little heart;
We'll be good friends, and kiss; but we must part,
In sooth,—I may not listen.
Indeed I would not wound thy little heart;
We'll be good friends, and kiss; but we must part,
In sooth,—I may not listen.
260
Once then, and twice,—
Ai, Cytherea! are lips like to these?
Get thee away! thy mouth hath witcheries
Strange for what is not wise.
Ai, Cytherea! are lips like to these?
Get thee away! thy mouth hath witcheries
Strange for what is not wise.
Well,—yet again;
By Pan! it hath a soft and coral curl,
I sorrow that I angered at thee, girl!
Dis pardon me thy pain!
By Pan! it hath a soft and coral curl,
I sorrow that I angered at thee, girl!
Dis pardon me thy pain!
But thou'lt go now,—
Take hence the tresses of thy hyacinth hair.—
Nay, nay! unbind them not,—'tis over fair,—
Keep the band on thy brow;
Take hence the tresses of thy hyacinth hair.—
Nay, nay! unbind them not,—'tis over fair,—
Keep the band on thy brow;
I like it well!
Its jewels, making quaint and equal strife
With red and blue, mock lips and eyes to life;
There let them ever dwell.
Its jewels, making quaint and equal strife
With red and blue, mock lips and eyes to life;
There let them ever dwell.
261
Shamed of their glow,—
Now, by Athene! but I trifle long,
If thou must stay, sweet lady, sing a song,—
Doric, and grave, and slow.
Now, by Athene! but I trifle long,
If thou must stay, sweet lady, sing a song,—
Doric, and grave, and slow.
One melody,—
Soft music to sage musing lends relief.—
Nay, draw not near,thou wilt not turn the leaf
Of old philosophy!
Soft music to sage musing lends relief.—
Nay, draw not near,thou wilt not turn the leaf
Of old philosophy!
Well, an' thou'lt learn,
See how it saith,“That in the ancient date
Priam of Troy—” Ah! but thou must not wait
To kiss before we turn.
See how it saith,“That in the ancient date
Priam of Troy—” Ah! but thou must not wait
To kiss before we turn.
Thy broad braids fell,
Sweeping the pages, Lady; let me lay
On this white neck the glossy veil away,
Now we shall study well.
Sweeping the pages, Lady; let me lay
On this white neck the glossy veil away,
Now we shall study well.
262
Oh me! thou'rt ill,—
The vermeil of thy cheek is fever-warm,
Dear one, thy heart beats ever on my arm,
And mine is never still.
The vermeil of thy cheek is fever-warm,
Dear one, thy heart beats ever on my arm,
And mine is never still.
What aileth me?
They fade,—the dim dull characters of Greek,
My lips lack all but kisses, if I speak
'Twill be to worship thee!
They fade,—the dim dull characters of Greek,
My lips lack all but kisses, if I speak
'Twill be to worship thee!
Unlock thine arms,—
Thy touch,—ai, ai! thy sweet breath is a spell,
Hide, Circe! hide thy deep breasts' ivory swell!
Oh, white witch, spare thy charms!
Thy touch,—ai, ai! thy sweet breath is a spell,
Hide, Circe! hide thy deep breasts' ivory swell!
Oh, white witch, spare thy charms!
Nay, spare not now!
Hence, grey-beard sage! I love thee, Life of mine;
Kiss freer, faster,—I am all, all thine,
Kiss me on lip and brow.
Hence, grey-beard sage! I love thee, Life of mine;
Kiss freer, faster,—I am all, all thine,
Kiss me on lip and brow.
| Griselda | |