Days and Hours :: :: University of Virginia Library

Low in the East the great Midsummer Dawn
Roll'd up the floodtide of the Ocean Light,
Far off the peaks and mountain snows were bright,
But Darkness swathed the flowers upon the lawn.

II

Hush'd was the balmy hour, and blest the clime,
And softly thro' an open casement crept,
Where by her deephair'd boy a mother slept,
Breath of the cradled dews and Summertime.

III

For into that still chamber stoop'd gold blossom,
Large purple bell, red rose, and woodbine pale;
And she with dreams of wonder did regale
Her phantasy, while he lay on her bosom.

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IV

She thought the Fairies, creeping from their cells
In those dusk flowers, with loving eyes benign
Stept down, and, as the Day began to shine,
To low sweet music utter'd blissful spells.

V

Over the slumbers of that infant boy
They hover'd; some from deathless springs of Morn
And from the chambers of the South had borne
Spirits of mirth, love, laughter, hope, and joy.

VI

Some hunter-like with wreathen horn and plume
In doublet green from greenwood had come forth;
They brought him strength and valour from the North,
And health, and mountain flowers, and spotless bloom.

VII

And some, like Gnomes from ancient mines of Ind,
Rose bow'd with treasure, and such mighty gems
As flame in front of Eastern diadems,
And gave him golden rods to rule mankind.

121

VIII

Some brought him drops from dying heroes' veins
And holy tears; some robes from Fancy's treasure,
Beauty, and vials of the wine of Pleasure,
And soft oblivious balms to lull his pains.

IX

Some with the last words of the Wise would fill
His tender soul; some with Apollo's songs;
Some with proud echoes of Olympian tongues
Weighty in council, mighty over ill.

X

Then in the middle of the chamber stood
A sovran Shape, but as a mother mild,
And touch'd the forehead of the sleeping child,
And spoke in solemn accents breathed with good.

XI

‘Fear not—I am the Mother of the Fays:
One gift of mine is better than their best:
Take thou this only—pine not for the rest—
'Tis more than Wealth, or Power, or length of Days.’

122

XII

And in her hand an adamant corslet shone—
‘Wear this—upon the outer face shall be
The hearts of others shadow'd unto thee,’
She cried—‘upon the innermost thine own.’