 | Italy and Other Poems |  |
135
THE LAKE OF NEMI.
Still in its deep abyss the water lay.
Where once the fire-flood roar'd, and central flame
Reft earth's disjointed frame,
Dark in the noon of day
The gloomy lake profound,
By Nemi's pathless woods encompass'd round.
Where once the fire-flood roar'd, and central flame
Reft earth's disjointed frame,
Dark in the noon of day
The gloomy lake profound,
By Nemi's pathless woods encompass'd round.
Aloft, on a bold eminence I stood,
And gaz'd on that dark lake, beneath a grove,
Where, like a gliding spectre seen to move,
The pale Carthusian his lone way pursued
In silence, thro' the interdicted wood,
Where female foot may ne'er unblam'd intrude:
Lest, haply seen, a form too fair
Immingle with their hermit's pray'r,
And downward draw the heav'n-fix'd eye
To earthly angel passing by.
And gaz'd on that dark lake, beneath a grove,
Where, like a gliding spectre seen to move,
The pale Carthusian his lone way pursued
In silence, thro' the interdicted wood,
Where female foot may ne'er unblam'd intrude:
Lest, haply seen, a form too fair
Immingle with their hermit's pray'r,
And downward draw the heav'n-fix'd eye
To earthly angel passing by.
136
It was not thus of old,
Yet echo dwells on tales by poets told
Of Nemi's woods, and groves where garlands hung:
And songs by females sung,
And hymned strains of virgin melody,
That hallow'd on the votive lyre
The goddess of the silvan choir,
Who left for these wild shades her native sky.
They sung, by her to life restor'd,
Him whom the Attic muse deplor'd.
They sung, how here with hound and horn
The coy, chaste youth wont rouse the morn,
Thro' sacred groves the stag pursue,
And trace, where Dian pass'd, her foot in sunless dew.
Yet echo dwells on tales by poets told
Of Nemi's woods, and groves where garlands hung:
And songs by females sung,
And hymned strains of virgin melody,
That hallow'd on the votive lyre
The goddess of the silvan choir,
Who left for these wild shades her native sky.
They sung, by her to life restor'd,
Him whom the Attic muse deplor'd.
They sung, how here with hound and horn
The coy, chaste youth wont rouse the morn,
Thro' sacred groves the stag pursue,
And trace, where Dian pass'd, her foot in sunless dew.
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