 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
20
ACANTHA.
Lusty Apollo, casting off his glory,
Too fierce for mortal eyes to bear unblinded,
Robed his immortal limbs in human beauty,
And came to Hybla on a morn of summer,
Where young Acantha roamed in thymy valleys,
Tending her milk-white goats and gathering honey.
Too fierce for mortal eyes to bear unblinded,
Robed his immortal limbs in human beauty,
And came to Hybla on a morn of summer,
Where young Acantha roamed in thymy valleys,
Tending her milk-white goats and gathering honey.
The god beheld her, and his pent-up passion
Shot lightnings through his eyes and through his pulses,
And quivered through his speech in waves of music.
She, coy and cold, affected not to see him,
And turned her dreamy glances to the daisies,
As if she'd read them to discover Fortune.
Shot lightnings through his eyes and through his pulses,
And quivered through his speech in waves of music.
She, coy and cold, affected not to see him,
And turned her dreamy glances to the daisies,
As if she'd read them to discover Fortune.
21
“Blue-eyed Acantha! Listen to my wooing!
Long have I sought thee o'er the upland pastures:
I've found thee oft, but never found thy favour,
Or caught one smile to bid me hope another—
Wintry in heart, but Spring-like in thy beauty—
Burst into perfect Summer—sweet Acantha!
Long have I sought thee o'er the upland pastures:
I've found thee oft, but never found thy favour,
Or caught one smile to bid me hope another—
Wintry in heart, but Spring-like in thy beauty—
Burst into perfect Summer—sweet Acantha!
“Fair-haired Acantha! Listen to my wooing!
There's not a shepherd boy in all our Hellas
Can swim or wrestle, dance or sing, as I can;
But dance and song are idle to my fancy.
The cool waves tempt me not, and sports oppress me
And all because thou'rt coy to me, Acantha!
There's not a shepherd boy in all our Hellas
Can swim or wrestle, dance or sing, as I can;
But dance and song are idle to my fancy.
The cool waves tempt me not, and sports oppress me
And all because thou'rt coy to me, Acantha!
“Rose-lipped Acantha! Listen to my wooing!
Fairest of maids, and brightest, though unkindest,
I have a bower, deep hidden on Parnassus,
Where I will feed thee upon milk and honey,
And love thee more than mortal tongue can tell thee,
If thou'lt be mine, as I am thine, Acantha!
Fairest of maids, and brightest, though unkindest,
I have a bower, deep hidden on Parnassus,
Where I will feed thee upon milk and honey,
And love thee more than mortal tongue can tell thee,
If thou'lt be mine, as I am thine, Acantha!
22
“Snow-browed Acantha! Listen to my wooing!
Thy name and beauty shall be sung for ever,
In merry roundelays of happy lovers,
Or in the plaintive songs of nursing mothers.
The star of maids—the paragon of matrons—
If thou'lt be kind, and smile on me, Acantha!
Thy name and beauty shall be sung for ever,
In merry roundelays of happy lovers,
Or in the plaintive songs of nursing mothers.
The star of maids—the paragon of matrons—
If thou'lt be kind, and smile on me, Acantha!
“Balm-breath'd Acantha! Listen to my wooing!
And if my youth, my song, my faith, my passion,
Avail me not, lo! at thy feet behold me!
No shepherd-poet—but a King and warrior;
And thou shalt be my Queen, and reign for ever,
Sceptred and throned—my beautiful Acantha!”
And if my youth, my song, my faith, my passion,
Avail me not, lo! at thy feet behold me!
No shepherd-poet—but a King and warrior;
And thou shalt be my Queen, and reign for ever,
Sceptred and throned—my beautiful Acantha!”
He knelt—the God of Light—but she repelled him.
“I've had a dream,”she said, “and I believe it,
That I shall be beloved of great Apollo;
And till he come, although I may not love him,
I cannot listen to the voice of wooer;—
Shepherd or King, I'm equally above thee.”
“I've had a dream,”she said, “and I believe it,
That I shall be beloved of great Apollo;
And till he come, although I may not love him,
I cannot listen to the voice of wooer;—
Shepherd or King, I'm equally above thee.”
23
Slowly he rose, and looked upon her sadly.
“She that can scorn true love for sake of glory
Deserves not love and priceless fond affection.
Thou hast been offered heart beyond thy knowing,
And song the immortal;—both hast thou rejected,
And grasped a shadow!—desolate Acantha!”
“She that can scorn true love for sake of glory
Deserves not love and priceless fond affection.
Thou hast been offered heart beyond thy knowing,
And song the immortal;—both hast thou rejected,
And grasped a shadow!—desolate Acantha!”
He touched her on the forehead with his finger,
And looked upon her lovingly one instant;
Then blazing on her in his full effulgence,
She perished ere her fair blue eyes could twinkle,
And on the greensward lay a heap of ashes:
And the god sighed, “O loved, but lost Acantha!
And looked upon her lovingly one instant;
Then blazing on her in his full effulgence,
She perished ere her fair blue eyes could twinkle,
And on the greensward lay a heap of ashes:
And the god sighed, “O loved, but lost Acantha!
“Beautiful still—arise from earth's kind bosom
A little flower; and when mankind behold thee,
They'll own thee lovely as thou wert when woman,
But love thee not. The shepherd boy deplores thee,
And o'er thy leaves the poet weeps for pity,
But the god punishes! Forlorn Acantha!”
A little flower; and when mankind behold thee,
They'll own thee lovely as thou wert when woman,
But love thee not. The shepherd boy deplores thee,
And o'er thy leaves the poet weeps for pity,
But the god punishes! Forlorn Acantha!”
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |