The Flood of Thessaly The Girl of Provence, and Other Poems. By Barry Cornwall [i.e. Bryan Waller Procter] |
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 | The Flood of Thessaly |  |
IV.
In youth, I read (with Cino) serious law,And should have read till now, but that I saw
How dull and selfish the civilian's toil,
Ne'er ranging from his desk unless to spoil;
And then they placed a cowl upon my head;
Ill change, and vain! for I was forest-bred,
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And made a young acquaintance with the sky,
With rocks and streams, rich fruits and blushing flowers,
And fed upon the looks of Morning, when
She parteth with the beauty of the Hours;
And so I quitted the most holy men
With whom I herded, and (thus willed my sire)
I sought fair Florence:—Here I did aspire
Unto a base renown, and gave my all
Of passion to a faithless woman's thrall.
I revelled; and (with riot and bright wine
Mad) did assert that span of life divine,
And shouted in the stern Carthusian's ear,
(Who having learned his lesson taught me mine)
“Love is but slavery and Faith a fear.”
O shame! for then I knew not Love nor Faith:
No knowledge of them had I more than hath
He who is mute, or deaf, or blind from birth,
Of speech or graceful motion. On the earth
I lived as doth the hermit, who hath given
His wisdom here away for hope of Heaven,
And shut the fountains of his thought with prayer:
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I travelled on in intellectual gloom,
Forgetting the dull poison in perfume;
But I awoke:—I saw a face as fair
As Dian's,—or thine own; yet touched with care
And pale, my princess,—tho' thy cheek is pale;
And with eyes downcast,—thus do thine prevail;
Her voice was silvered,—like my Naples' queen,
And her hair braided as thine own hath been,
When on some lamped feast, solely arrayed
In thy own costly beauty, thou hast strayed
(Like some white creature of the upper air)
Amongst us, marvelling at sight so fair.
This girl of whom I tell thee (—she is dead,
And thou wilt anger not at what is said)
I loved as I love thee. Less calm, perhaps,
Was that regard than the one now which wraps
My senses in its clear unchanging light;
And yet it yielded me most great delight:
But I was very young, and scarcely knew
Love's quick gradations, tho' it fann'd and flew
Round and around me, and my heart was fire,
Until borne onwards by my wing'd desire
I traversed an Elysium.—
And thou wilt anger not at what is said)
I loved as I love thee. Less calm, perhaps,
Was that regard than the one now which wraps
My senses in its clear unchanging light;
And yet it yielded me most great delight:
But I was very young, and scarcely knew
Love's quick gradations, tho' it fann'd and flew
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Until borne onwards by my wing'd desire
I traversed an Elysium.—
There may be
Passion like mine,—as true, certain more free,
But never was delight so large as mine
When I lay panting at Olympia's feet,
And she—she smiled! It was a smile heav'n-sweet,—
Like Juno's when by Jove she did recline
Clasped in the Cytherean zone. I sprung
Into her arms and there bewildered hung
On her red lip and gazed within her eye,
Which turned and misted when my own was nigh:
—Why do I tell thee this?—why, but because
I love thee, and submit to all the laws
Which the sweet tyranny of Love has sealed,
And Truth is one,—and lo! I have revealed.
Passion like mine,—as true, certain more free,
But never was delight so large as mine
When I lay panting at Olympia's feet,
And she—she smiled! It was a smile heav'n-sweet,—
Like Juno's when by Jove she did recline
Clasped in the Cytherean zone. I sprung
Into her arms and there bewildered hung
On her red lip and gazed within her eye,
Which turned and misted when my own was nigh:
—Why do I tell thee this?—why, but because
I love thee, and submit to all the laws
Which the sweet tyranny of Love has sealed,
And Truth is one,—and lo! I have revealed.
| The Flood of Thessaly | |