University of Virginia Library

PROEM.

In far-off days, when little more than boy,
As scornful manhood rates our loveliest years—
For only twice ten summers could I count,
Or scarcely more, if more—in those far days,
When life was in its morning, I first sang
Of Ariadne pale with love and woe,
Of Theseus whose great fame can never set,
Of men that die and of the enduring gods.
“O soul of Adonais, thou who sang'st
“Endymion and Hyperion, be with me;
“O lay thy radiant finger on my lip,
“And lend thy harp, dead brother, while I sing.”
Thus one adorned with monumental rhyme,
By him who loosed Prometheus from the rock,
I then invoked who love the glorious dead,
Our greater ancestors, whose memories hang
Like pictures down the lengthening walls of Time.
Presumptuous and unanswered was the prayer?
Aspirant not inspired, assay'd the youth
A venturous task, a task beyond his strength?
Perchance, but still the hope outgrew the fear.
Years past: the song still lingered in my heart,
And lingering with a sweet persistency,
Oft dropp'd and oft renewed in riper years,
Tuned and retuned, like some old instrument,
I here and there rewarbled it again.
And if mature in immaturity,
The imperfect Muse still halt in sense or sound,
Yet a kind world that shapes itself to song,
And scorns no verse that hath a noble aim,
One hour may leave its work, and travelling back
Into the fabled realms of antique time,
By Fancy led, by me and Fancy led
Who know the way, may hear, and smile to hear,
My Greek Romance, oft blotted, oft rewrit.