Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

Then next a merry Woodsman, clad in green, Step vanward from his mates, that idly stood Each at his proper ease, as they had been Nursed in the liberty of old Shérwood, And wore the livery of Robin Hood, Who wont in forest shades to dine and sup,-- So came this chief right frankly, and made good His haunch against his axe, and thus spoke up, Doffing his cap, which was an acorn's cup:--

XLVII.

"We be small foresters and gay, who tend On trees, and all their furniture of green, Training the young boughs airily to bend, And show blue snatches of the sky between;-- Or knit more close intricacies, to screen Birds' crafty dwellings, as may hide them best, But most the timid blackbird's--she that, seen, Will bear black poisonous berries to her nest, Lest man should cage the darlings of her breast."

XLVIII.

"We bend each tree in proper attitude, And founting willows train in silvery falls; We frame all shady roofs and arches rude, And verdant aisles leading to Dryads' halls, Or deep recesses where the Echo calls;-- We shape all plumy trees against the sky, And carve tall elms' Corinthian capitals,-- When sometimes, as our tiny hatchets ply, Men say, the tapping woodpecker is nigh."

XLIX.

"Sometimes we scoop the squirrel's hollow cell, And sometimes carve quaint letters on trees' rind, That haply some lone musing wight may spell Dainty Aminta,--Gentle Rosalind,-- Or chastest Laura,--sweetly call'd to mind In sylvan solitudes, ere he lies down;-- And sometimes we enrich gray stems with twined And vagrant ivy,--or rich moss, whose brown Burns into gold as the warm sun goes down."

L.

"And, lastly, for mirth's sake and Christmas cheer, We bear the seedling berries, for increase, To graft the Druid oaks, from year to year, Careful that mistletoe may never cease;-- Wherefore, if thou dost prize the shady peace Of sombre forests, or to see light break Through sylvan cloisters, and in spring release Thy spirit amongst leaves from careful ake, Spare us our lives for the Green Dryad's sake."

LI.

Then Saturn, with a frown:--"Go forth, and fell Oak for your coffins, and thenceforth lay by Your axes for the rust, and bid farewell To all sweet birds, and the blue peeps of sky Through tangled branches, for ye shall not spy The next green generation of the tree; But hence with the dead leaves, whene'e they fly,-- Which in the bleak air I would rather see, Than flights of the most tuneful birds that be."

LII.

"For I dislike all prime, and verdant pets, Ivy except, that on the aged wall Prays with its worm-like roots, and daily frets The crumbled tower it seems to league withal, King-like, worn down by its own coronal:-- Neither in forest haunts love I to won, Before the golden plumage 'gins to fall, And leaves the brown bleak limbs with few leaves on, Or bare--like Nature in her skeleton."

LIII.

"For then sit I amongst the crooked boughs, Wooing dull Memory with kindred sighs; And there in rustling nuptials we espouse, Smit by the sadness in each other's eyes;-- But Hope must have green bowers and blue skies, And must be courted with the gauds of Spring; Whilst Youth leans god-like on her lap, and cries, 'What shall we always do, but love and sing?'-- And Time is reckon'd a discarded thing."

LIV.

Here in my dream it made me fret to see How Puck, the antic, all this dreary while Had blithely jested with calamity, With mis-timed mirth mocking the doleful style Of his sad comrades, till it raised my bile To see him so reflect their grief aside, Turning their solemn looks to have a smile-- Like a straight stick shown crooked in the tide;-- But soon a novel advocate I spied.

LV.

Quoth he--"We teach all natures to fulfil Their fore-appointed crafts, and instincts meet,-- The bee's sweet alchemy,--the spider's skill,-- The pismire's care to garner up his wheat,-- And rustic masonry to swallows fleet,-- The lapwing's cunning to preserve her nest,-- But most, that lesser pelican, the sweet And shrilly ruddock, with its bleeding breast, Its tender pity of poor babes distrest."

LVI.

"Sometimes we cast our shapes, and in sleek skins Delve with the timid mole, that aptly delves From our example; so the spider spins, And eke the silk-worm, pattern'd by ourselves: Sometimes we travail on the summer shelves Of early bees, and busy toils commence, Watch'd of wise men, that know not we are elves, But gaze and marvel at our stretch of sense, And praise our human-like intelligence."

LVII.

"Wherefore, by thy delight in that old tale, And plaintive dirges the late robins sing, What time the leaves are scatter'd by the gale, Mindful of that old forest burying;-- As thou dost love to watch each tiny thing, For whom our craft most curiously contrives, If thou hast caught a bee upon the wing, To take his honey-bag,--spare us our lives, And we will pay the ransom in full hives."

LVIII.

"Now by my glass," quoth Time, "ye do offend In teaching the brown bees that careful lore, And frugal ants, whose millions would have end, But they lay up for need a timely store, And travail with the seasons evermore; Whereas Great Mammoth long hath pass'd away, And none but I can tell what hide he wore; Whilst purblind men, the creatures of a day, In riddling wonder his great bones survey."

LIX.

Then came an elf, right beauteous to behold, Whose coat was like a brooklet that the sun Hath all embroider'd with its crooked gold, It was so quaintly wrought and overrun With spangled traceries,--most meet for one That was a warden of the pearly streams;-- And as he stept out of the shadows dun, His jewels sparkled in the pale moon's gleams, And shot into the air their pointed beams.

LX.

Quoth he,--"We bear the gold and silver keys Of bubbling springs and fountains, that below Course thro' the veiny earth,--which when they freeze Into hard crysolites, we bid to flow, Creeping like subtle snakes, when, as they go, We guide their windings to melodious falls, At whose soft murmurings, so sweet and low, Poets have tuned their smoothest madrigals, To sing to ladies in their banquet-halls."

LXI.

"And when the hot sun with his steadfast heat Parches the river god,--whose dusty urn Drips miserly, till soon his crystal feet Against his pebbly floor wax faint and burn And languid fish, unpoised, grow sick and yearn,-- Then scoop we hollows in some sandy nook, And little channels dig, wherein we turn The thread-worn rivulet, that all forsook The Naiad-lily, pining for her brook."

LXII.

"Wherefore, by thy delight in cool green meads, With living sapphires daintily inlaid,-- In all soft songs of waters and their reeds,-- And all reflections in a streamlet made, Haply of thy own love, that, disarray'd, Kills the fair lily with a livelier white,-- By silver trouts upspringing from green shade, And winking stars reduplicate at night, Spare us, poor ministers to such delight."

LXIII.

Howbeit his pleading and his gentle looks Moved not the spiteful Shade:--Quoth he, "Your taste Shoots wide of mine, for I despise the brooks And slavish rivulets that run to waste In noontide sweats, or, like poor vassals, haste To swell the vast dominion of the sea, In whose great presence I am held disgraced, And neighbor'd with a king that rivals me In ancient might and hoary majesty."

LXIV.

"Whereas I ruled in Chaos, and still keep The awful secrets of that ancient dearth, Before the briny fountains of the deep Brimm'd up the hollow cavities of earth;-- I saw each trickling Sea-God at his birth, Each pearly Naiad with her oozy locks, And infant Titans of enormous girth, Whose huge young feet yet stumbled on the rocks, Stunning the early world with frequent shocks."

LXV.

"Where now is Titan, with his cumbrous brood, That scared the world?--By this sharp scythe they fell, And half the sky was curdled with their blood: So have all primal giants sigh'd farewell. No wardens now by sedgy fountains dwell, Nor pearly Naiads. All their days are done That strove with Time, untimely, to excel; Wherefore I razed their progenies, and none But my great shadow intercepts the sun!"

LXVI.

Then saith the timid Fay--"Oh, mighty Time! Well hast thou wrought the cruel Titans' fall, For they were stain'd with many a bloody crime: Great giants work great wrongs,--but we are small, For love goes lowly;--but Oppression's tall, And with surpassing strides goes foremost still Where love indeed can hardly reach at all; Like a poor dwarf o'erburthen'd with good will, That labors to efface the tracks of ill.--"

LXVII.

"Man even strives with Man, but we eschew The guilty feud, and all fierce strifes abhor; Nay, we are gentle as the sweet heaven's dew, Beside the red and horrid drops of war, Weeping the cruel hates men battle for, Which worldly bosoms nourish in our spite: For in the gentle breast we ne'er withdraw, But only when all love hath taken flight, And youth's warm gracious heart is hardened quite."

LXVIII.

"So are our gentle natures intertwined With sweet humanities, and closely knit In kindly sympathy with human kind. Witness how we befriend, with elfin wit, All hopeless maids and lovers,--nor omit Magical succors unto hearts forlorn:-- We charm man's life, and do not perish it;-- So judge us by the helps we showed this morn, To one who held his wretched days in scorn."

LXIX.

"'Twas nigh sweet Amwell;--for the Queen had task'd Our skill to-day amidst the silver Lea, Whereon the noontide sun had not yet bask'd, Wherefore some patient man we thought to see, Planted in moss-grown rushes to the knee, Beside the cloudy margin cold and dim;-- Howbeit no patient fisherman was he That cast his sudden shadow from the brim, Making us leave our toils to gaze on him."

LXX.

"His face was ashy pale, and leaden care Had sunk the levell'd arches of his brow, Once bridges for his joyous thoughts to fare Over those melancholy springs and slow, That from his piteous eyes began to flow, And fell anon into the chilly stream; Which, as his mimick'd image show'd below, Wrinkled his face with many a needless seam, Making grief sadder in its own esteem."

LXXI.

"And lo! upon the air we saw him stretch His passionate arms; and, in a wayward strain, He 'gan to elegize that fellow wretch That with mute gestures answer'd him again, Saying, 'Poor slave, how long wilt thou remain Life's sad weak captive in a prison strong, Hoping with tears to rust away thy chain, In bitter servitude to worldly wrong?-- Thou wear'st that mortal livery too long!'"

LXXII.

"This, with more spleenful speeches and some tears, When he had spent upon the imaged wave, Speedily I convened my elfin peers Under the lily-cups, that we might save This woeful mortal from a wilful grave By shrewd diversions of his mind's regret, Seeing he was mere Melancholy's slave, That sank wherever a dark cloud he met, And straight was tangled in her secret net."

LXXIII.

"Therefore, as still he watch'd the water's flow, Daintily we transform'd, and with bright fins Came glancing through the gloom; some from below Rose like dim fancies when a dream begins, Snatching the light upon their purple skins; Then under the broad leaves made slow retire: One like a golden galley bravely wins Its radiant course,--another glows like fire,-- Making that wayward man our pranks admire."

LXXIV.

"And so he banish'd thought, and quite forgot All contemplation of that wretched face; And so we wiled him from that lonely spot Along the river's brink; till, by heaven's grace, He met a gentle haunter of the place, Full of sweet wisdom gather'd from the brooks, Who there discuss'd his melancholy case With wholesome texts learned from kind nature's books, Meanwhile he newly trimm'd his lines and hooks."

LXXV.

Herewith the Fairy ceased. Quoth Ariel now-- "Let me remember how I saved a man, Whose fatal noose was fastened on a bough, Intended to abridge his sad life's span; For haply I was by when he began His stern soliloquy in life dispraise, And overheard his melancholy plan, How he had made a vow to end his days, And therefore follow'd him in all his ways."

LXXVI.

"Through brake and tangled copse, for much he loathed All populous haunts, and roam'd in forests rude, To hide himself from man. But I had clothed My delicate limbs with plumes, and still pursued, Where only foxes and wild cats intrude, Till we were come beside an ancient tree Late blasted by a storm. Here he renew'd His loud complaints,--choosing that spot to be The scene of his last horrid tragedy."

LXXVII.

"It was a wild and melancholy glen, Made gloomy by tall firs and cypress dark, Whose roots, like any bones of buried men, Push'd through the rotten sod for fear's remark; A hundred horrid stems, jagged and stark, Wrestled with crooked arms in hideous fray, Besides sleek ashes with their dappled bark, Like crafty serpents climbing for a prey, With many blasted oaks moss-grown and gray."

LXXVIII.

"But here upon his final desperate clause Suddenly I pronounced so sweet a strain, Like a pang'd nightingale, it made him pause, Till half the frenzy of his grief was slain, The sad remainder oozing from his brain In timely ecstasies of healing tears, Which through his ardent eyes began to drain;-- Meanwhile the deadly Fates unclosed their shears:-- So pity me and all my fated peers!"

LXXIX.

Thus Ariel ended, and was some time hush'd: When with the hoary shape a fresh tongue pleads, And red as rose the gentle Fairy blush'd To read the records of her own good deeds:-- "It chanced," quoth she, "in seeking through the meads For honied cowslips, sweetest in the morn, Whilst yet the buds were hung with dewy beads." And Echo answered to the huntsman's horn, We found a babe left in the swaths forlorn.

LXXX.

"A little, sorrowful, deserted thing, Begot of love, and yet no love begetting; Guiltless of shame, and yet for shame to wring; And too soon banish'd from a mother's petting, To churlish nurture and the wide world's fretting, For alien pity and unnatural care;-- Alas! to see how the cold dew kept wetting His childish coats, and dabbled all his hair, Like gossamers across his forehead fair."

LXXXI.

"His pretty pouting mouth, witless of speech, Lay half-way open like a rose-lipp'd shell; And his young cheek was softer than a peach, Whereon his tears, for roundness, could not dwell, But quickly roll'd themselves to pearls, and fell, Some on the grass, and some against his hand, Or haply wander'd to the dimpled well, Which love beside his mouth had sweetly plann'd, Yet not for tears, but mirth and smilings bland."

LXXXII.

"Pity it was to see those frequent tears Falling regardless from his friendless eyes; There was such beauty in those twin blue spheres, As any mother's heart might leap to prize; Blue were they, like the zenith of the skies Softened betwixt two clouds, both clear and mild;-- Just touched with thought, and yet not over wise, They show'd the gentle spirit of a child, Not yet by care or any craft defiled."

LXXXIII.

"Pity it was to see the ardent sun Scorching his helpless limbs--it shone so warm; For kindly shade or shelter he had none, Nor mother's gentle breast, come fair or storm. Meanwhile I bade my pitying mates transform Like grasshoppers, and then, with shrilly cries, All round the infant noisily we swarm, Haply some passing rustic to advise-- Whilst providential Heaven our care espies."

LXXXIV.

"And sends full soon a tender-hearted hind, Who, wond'ring at our loud unusual note, Strays curiously aside, and so doth find The orphan child laid in the grass remote, And laps the foundling in his russet coat, Who thence was nurtured in his kindly cot:-- But how he prosper'd let proud London quote, How wise, how rich, and how renown'd he got, And chief of all her citizens, I wot."

LXXXV.

"Witness his goodly vessels on the Thames, Whose holds were fraught with costly merchandise,-- Jewels from Ind, and pearls for courtly dames, And gorgeous silks that Samarcand supplies: Witness that Royal Bourse he bade arise, The mart of merchants from the East and West: Whose slender summit, pointing to the skies, Still bears, in token of his grateful breast, The tender grasshopper, his chosen crest--"

LXXXVI.

"The tender grasshopper, his chosen crest, That all the summer, with a tuneful wing, Makes merry chirpings in its grassy nest, Inspirited with dew to leap and sing:-- So let us also live, eternal King! Partakers of the green and pleasant earth:-- Pity it is to slay the meanest thing, That, like a mote, shines in the smile of mirth:-- Enough there is of joy's decrease and dearth!"

LXXXVII.

"Enough of pleasure, and delight, and beauty, Perish'd and gone, and hasting to decay;-- Enough to sadden even thee, whose duty Or spite it is to havoc and to slay: Too many a lovely race razed quite away, Hath left large gaps in life and human loving;-- Here then begin thy cruel war to stay, And spare fresh sighs, and tears, and groans, reproving Thy desolating hand for our removing."

LXXXVIII.

Now here I heard a shrill and sudden cry, And, looking up, I saw the antic Puck Grappling with Time, who clutch'd him like a fly, Victim of his own sport,--the jester's luck! He, whilst his fellows grieved, poor wight, had stuck His freakish gauds upon the Ancient's brow, And now his ear, and now his beard, would pluck; Whereas the angry churl had snatched him now, Crying, "Thou impish mischief, who art thou?"

LXXXIX.

"Alas!" quoth Puck, "a little random elf, Born in the sport of nature, like a weed, For simple sweet enjoyment of myself, But for no other purpose, worth, or need; And yet withal of a most happy breed; And there is Robin Goodfellow besides, My partner dear in many a prankish deed To make dame Laughter hold her jolly sides, Like merry mummers twain on holy tides."

XC.

"'Tis we that bob the angler's idle cork, Till e'en the patient man breathes half a curse; We steal the morsel from the gossip's fork, And curdling looks with secret straws disperse, Or stop the sneezing chanter at mid verse: And when an infant's beauty prospers ill, We change, some mothers say, the child at nurse: But any graver purpose to fulfil, We have not wit enough, and scarce the will."

XCI.

"We never let the canker melancholy To gather on our faces like a rust, But glass our features with some change of folly, Taking life's fabled miseries on trust, But only sorrowing when sorrow must: We ruminate no sage's solemn cud, But own ourselves a pinch of lively dust To frisk upon a wind,--whereas the flood Of tears would turn us into heavy mud."

XCII.

"Beshrew those sad interpreters of nature, Who gloze her lively universal law, As if she had not form'd our cheerful feature To be so tickled with the slightest straw! So let them vex their mumbling mouths, and draw The corners downward, like a wat'ry moon, And deal in gusty sighs and rainy flaw-- We will not woo foul weather all too soon, Or nurse November on the lap of June."

XCIII.

"For ours are winging sprites, like any bird, That shun all stagnant settlements of grief; And even in our rest our hearts are stirr'd, Like insects settled on a dancing leaf:-- This is our small philosophy in brief, Which thus to teach hath set me all agape: But dost thou relish it? O hoary chief! Unclasp thy crooked fingers from my nape, And I will show thee many a pleasant scrape."

XCIV.

Then Saturn thus:--shaking his crooked blade O'erhead, which made aloft a lightning flash In all the fairies' eyes, dismally fray'd! His ensuing voice came like the thunder crash-- Meanwhile the bolt shatters some pine or ash-- "Thou feeble, wanton, foolish, fickle thing! Whom nought can frighten, sadden, or abash,-- To hope my solemn countenance to wring To idiot smiles!--but I will prune thy wing!"

XCV.

"Lo! this most awful handle of my scythe Stood once a May-pole, with a flowery crown, Which rustics danced around, and maidens blithe, To wanton pipings;--but I pluck'd it down, And robed the May Queen in a churchyard gown, Turning her buds to rosemary and rue; And all their merry minstrelsy did drown, And laid each lusty leaper in the dew;-- So thou shalt fare--and every jovial crew!"

XCVI.

Here he lets go the struggling imp, to clutch. His mortal engine with each grisly hand, Which frights the elfin progeny so much, They huddle in a heap, and trembling stand All round Titania, like the queen bee's band, With sighs and tears and very shrieks of woe!-- Meanwhile, some moving argument I plann'd, To make the stern Shade merciful,--when lo! He drops his fatal scythe without a blow!

XCVII.

For, just at need, a timely Apparition Steps in between, to bear the awful brunt; Making him change his horrible position, To marvel at this comer, brave and blunt, That dares Time's irresistible affront, Whose strokes have scarr'd even the gods of old;-- Whereas this seem'd a mortal, at mere hunt For coneys, lighted by the moonshine cold, Or stalker of stray deer, stealthy and bold.

XCVIII.

Who, turning to the small assembled fays, Doffs to the lily queen his courteous cap, And holds her beauty for a while in gaze, With bright eyes kindling at this pleasant hap; And thence upon the fair moon's silver map, As if in question of this magic chance, Laid like a dream upon the green earth's lap; And then upon old Saturn turns askance, Exclaiming, with a glad and kindly glance:--

XCIX.

"Oh, these be Fancy's revelers by night! Stealthy companions of the downy moth-- Diana's motes, that flit in her pale light, Shunners of sunbeams in diurnal sloth;-- These be the feasters on night's silver cloth;-- The gnat with shrilly trump is their convener, Forth from their flowery chambers, nothing loth, With lulling tunes to charm the air serener, Or dance upon the grass to make it greener."

C.

"These be the pretty genii of the flow'rs, Daintily fed with honey and pure dew-- Midsummer's phantoms in her dreaming hours, King Oberon, and all his merry crew, The darling puppets of romance's view; Fairies, and sprites, and goblin elves we call them, Famous for patronage of lovers true;-- No harm they act, neither shall harm befall them, So do not thus with crabbed frowns appal them."

CI.

O what a cry was Saturn's then!--it made The fairies quake. "What care I for their pranks, However they may lovers choose to aid, Or dance their roundelays on flow'ry banks?-- Long must they dance before they earn my thanks,-- So step aside, to some far safer spot, Whilst with my hungry scythe I mow their ranks, And leave them in the sun, like weeds, to rot, And with the next day's sun to be forgot."

CII.

Anon, he raised afresh his weapon keen; But still the gracious Shade disarm'd his aim, Stepping with brave alacrity between, And made his sore arm powerless and tame. His be perpetual glory, for the shame Of hoary Saturn in that grand defeat!-- But I must tell how here Titania, came With all her kneeling lieges, to entreat His kindly succor, in sad tones, but sweet.

CIII.

Saying, "Thou seest a wretched queen before thee, The fading power of a failing land, Who for a kingdom kneeleth to implore thee, Now menaced by this tyrant's spoiling hand; No one but thee can hopefully withstand That crooked blade, he longeth so to lift. I pray thee blind him with his own vile sand, Which only times all ruins by its drift, Or prune his eagle wings that are so swift."

CIV.

"Or take him by that sole and grizzled tuft, That hangs upon his bald and barren crown; And we will sing to see him so rebuff'd, And lend our little mights to pull him down, And make brave sport of his malicious frown, For all his boastful mockery o'er men. For thou wast born, I know, for this renown, By my most magical and inward ken, That readeth ev'n at Fate's forestalling pen."

CV.

"Nay, by the golden lustre of thine eye, And by thy brow's most fair and ample span, Thought's glorious palace, framed for fancies high, And by thy cheek thus passionately wan, I know the signs of an immortal man,-- Nature's chief darling, and illustrious mate, Destined to foil old Death's oblivious plan, And shine untarnish'd by the fogs of Fate, Time's famous rival till the final date!"

CVI.

"O shield us then from this usurping Time, And we will visit thee in moonlight dreams; And teach thee tunes, to wed unto thy rhyme, And dance about thee in all midnight gleams, Giving thee glimpses of our magic schemes, Such as no mortal's eye hath ever seen; And, for thy love to us in our extremes, Will ever keep thy chaplet fresh and green, Such as no poet's wreath hath ever been!"

CVII.

"And we'll distil thee aromatic dews, To charm thy sense, when there shall be no flow'rs; And flavor'd syrups in thy drinks infuse, And teach the nightingale to haunt thy bow'rs, And with our games divert thy weariest hours, With all that elfin wits can e'er devise. And, this churl dead, there'll be no hasting hours To rob thee of thy joys, as now joy flies":-- Here she was stopp'd by Saturn's furious cries.

CVIII.

Whom, therefore, the kind Shade rebukes anew, Saying, "Thou haggard Sin, go forth, and scoop Thy hollow coffin in some churchyard yew, Or make th' autumnal flow'rs turn pale, and droop; Or fell the bearded corn, till gleaners stoop Under fat sheaves,--or blast the piny grove;-- But here thou shall not harm this pretty group, Whose lives are not so frail and feebly wove, But leased on Nature's loveliness and love."

CIX.

"'Tis these that free the small entangled fly, Caught in the venom'd spider's crafty snare;-- These be the petty surgeons that apply The healing balsams to the wounded hare, Bedded in bloody fern, no creature's care!-- These be providers for the orphan brood, Whose tender mother hath been slain in air, Quitting with gaping bill her darling's food, Hard by the verge of her domestic wood."

CX.

"'Tis these befriend the timid trembling stag, When, with a bursting heart beset with fears, He feels his saving speed begin to flag; For then they quench the fatal taint with tears, And prompt fresh shifts in his alarum'd ears, So piteously they view all bloody morts; Or if the gunner, with his arms, appears, Like noisy pyes and jays, with harsh reports, They warn the wild fowl of his deadly sports."

CXI.

"For these are kindly ministers of nature, To soothe all covert hurts and dumb distress; Pretty they be, and very small of stature,-- For mercy still consorts with littleness;-- Wherefore the sum of good is still the less, And mischief grossest in this world of wrong;-- So do these charitable dwarfs redress The tenfold ravages of giants strong, To whom great malice and great might belong."

CXII.

"Likewise to them are Poets much beholden For secret favors in the midnight glooms; Brave Spenser quaff'd out of their goblets golden, And saw their tables spread of prompt mushrooms, And heard their horns of honeysuckle blooms Sounding upon the air most soothing soft, Like humming bees busy about the brooms,-- And glanced this fair queen's witchery full oft, And in her magic wain soar'd far aloft."

CXIII.

"Nay I myself, though mortal, once was nursed By fairy gossips, friendly at my birth, And in my childish ear glib Mab rehearsed Her breezy travels round our planet's girth, Telling me wonders of the moon and earth; My gramarye at her grave lap I conn'd, Where Puck hath been convened to make me mirth; I have had from Queen Titania tokens fond, And toy'd with Oberon's permitted wand."

CXIV.

"With figs and plums and Persian dates they fed me, And delicate cates after my sunset meal, And took me by my childish hand, and led me By craggy rocks crested with keeps of steel, Whose awful bases deep dark woods conceal, Staining some dead lake with their verdant dyes. And when the West sparkled at Phoebus' wheel, With fairy euphrasy they purged mine eyes, To let me see their cities in the skies."

CXV.

"'Twas they first school'd my young imagination To take its flights like any new-fledged bird, And show'd the span of winged meditation Stretch'd wider than things grossly seen or heard. With sweet swift Ariel how I soar'd and stirr'd The fragrant blooms of spiritual bow'rs! 'Twas they endear'd what I have still preferr'd, Nature's blest attributes and balmy pow'rs, Her hills and vales and brooks, sweet birds and flow'rs."

CXVI.

"Wherefore with all true loyalty and duty Will I regard them in my honoring rhyme, With love for love, and homages to beauty, And magic thoughts gather'd in night's cool clime, With studious verse trancing the dragon Time, Strong as old Merlin's necromantic spells; So these dear monarchs of the summer's prime Shall live unstartled by his dreadful yells, Till shrill larks warn them to their flowery cells."

CXVII.

Look how a poison'd man turns livid black, Drugg'd with a cup of deadly hellebore, That sets his horrid features all at rack,-- So seem'd these words into the ear to pour Of ghastly Saturn, answering with a roar Of mortal pain and spite and utmost rage, Wherewith his grisly arm he raised once more, And bade the cluster'd sinews all engage, As if at one fell stroke to wreck an age.

CXVIII.

Whereas the blade flash'd on the dinted ground, Down through his steadfast foe, yet made no scar On that immortal Shade, or death-like wound; But Time was long benumb'd, and stood ajar, And then with baffled rage took flight afar, To weep his hurt in some Cimmerian gloom, Or meaner fames (like mine) to mock and mar, Or sharp his scythe for royal strokes of doom, Whetting its edge on some old Cæsar's tomb.

CXIX.

Howbeit he vanish'd in the forest shade, Distantly heard as if some grumbling pard, And, like Nymph Echo, to a sound decay'd;-- Meanwhile the fays cluster'd the gracious Bard, The darling centre of their dear regard: Besides of sundry dances on the green, Never was mortal man so brightly starr'd, Or won such pretty homages, I ween. "Nod to him, Elves!" cries the melodious queen.

CXX.

"Nod to him, Elves, and flutter round about him, And quite enclose him with your pretty crowd, And touch him lovingly, for that, without him, The silkworm now had spun our dreary shroud;-- But he hath all dispersed Death's tearful cloud, And Time's dread effigy scared quite away: Bow to him then, as though to me ye bow'd, And his dear wishes prosper and obey Wherever love and wit can find a way!"

CXXI.

"'Noint him with fairy dews of magic savors, Shaken from orient buds still pearly wet, Roses and spicy pinks,--and, of all favors, Plant in his walks the purple violet, And meadow-sweet under the hedges set, To mingle breaths with dainty eglantine And honeysuckles sweet,--nor yet forget Some pastoral flowery chaplets to entwine, To vie the thoughts about his brow benign!"

CXXII.

"Let no wild things astonish him or fear him, But tell them all how mild he is of heart, Till e'en the timid hares go frankly near him, And eke the dappled does, yet never start; Nor shall their fawns into the thickets dart, Nor wrens forsake their nests among the leaves, Nor speckled thrushes flutter far apart;-- But bid the sacred swallow haunt his eaves, To guard his roof from lightning and from thieves."

CXXIII.

"Or when he goes the nimble squirrel's visitor, Let the brown hermit bring his hoarded nuts, For, tell him, this is Nature's kind Inquisitor,-- Though man keeps cautious doors that conscience shuts, For conscious wrong all curious quest rebuts,-- Nor yet shall bees uncase their jealous stings, However he may watch their straw-built huts;-- So let him learn the crafts of all small things, Which he will hint most aptly when he sings."

CXXIV.

Here she leaves off, and with a graceful hand Waves thrice three splendid circles round his head; Which, though deserted by the radiant wand, Wears still the glory which her waving shed, Such as erst crown'd the old Apostle's head, To show the thoughts there harbor'd were divine, And on immortal contemplations fed:-- Goodly it was to see that glory shine Around a brow so lofty and benign!--

CXXV.

Goodly it was to see the elfin brood Contend for kisses of his gentle hand, That had their mortal enemy withstood, And stay'd their lives, fast ebbing with the sand. Long while this strife engaged the pretty band; But now bold Chanticleer, from farm to farm, Challenged the dawn creeping o'er eastern land, And well the fairies knew that shrill alarm, Which sounds the knell of every elfish charm.

CXXVI.

And soon the rolling mist, that 'gan arise From plashy mead and undiscover'd stream, Earth's morning incense to the early skies, Crept o'er the failing landscape of my dream. Soon faded then the Phantom of my theme-- A shapeless shade, that fancy disavowed, And shrank to nothing in the mist extreme, Then flew Titania,--and her little crowd, Like flocking linnets, vanished in a cloud.

HERO AND LEANDER.

TO S. T. COLERIDGE.

It is not with a hope my feeble praise Can add one moment's honor to thy own, That with thy mighty name I grace these lays; I seek to glorify myself alone: For that some precious favor thou hast shown To my endeavor in a bygone time, And by this token I would have it known Thou art my friend, and friendly to my rhyme! It is my dear ambition now to climb Still higher in thy thought,--if my bold pen May thrust on contemplations more sublime.-- But I am thirsty for thy praise, for when We gain applauses from the great in name, We seem to be partakers of _their_ fame.

I.

Oh Bards of old! What sorrows have ye sung, And tragic stories, chronicled in stone,-- Sad Philomel restored her ravish'd tongue, And transform'd Niobe in dumbness shown; Sweet Sappho on her love forever calls, And Hero on the drown'd Leander falls!

II.

Was it that spectacles of sadder plights Should make our blisses relish the more high? Then all fair dames, and maidens, and true knights, Whose flourish'd fortunes prosper in Love's eye, Weep here, unto a tale of ancient grief, Traced from the course of an old bas-relief.

III.

There stands Abydos!--here is Sestos' steep, Hard by the gusty margin of the sea, Where sprinkling waves continually do leap; And that is where those famous lovers be, A builded gloom shot up into the gray, As if the first tall watch-tow'r of the day.

IV.

Lo! how the lark soars upward and is gone; Turning a spirit as he nears the sky, His voice is heard, though body there is none, And rain-like music scatters from on high; But Love would follow with a falcon spite, To pluck the minstrel from his dewy height.

V.

For Love hath framed a ditty of regrets, Tuned to the hollow sobbings on the shore, A vexing sense, that with like music frets, And chimes this dismal burthen o'er and o'er, Saying, Leander's joys are past and spent, Like stars extinguish'd in the firmament.

VI.

For ere the golden crevices of morn Let in those regal luxuries of light, Which all the variable east adorn, And hang rich fringes on the skirts of night, Leander, weaning from sweet Hero's side, Must leave a widow where he found a bride.

VII.

Hark! how the billows beat upon the sand! Like pawing steeds impatient of delay; Meanwhile their rider, ling'ring on the land, Dallies with love, and holds farewell at bay A too short span.--How tedious slow is grief! But parting renders time both sad and brief.

VIII.

"Alas!" (he sigh'd), "that this first glimpsing light, Which makes the wide world tenderly appear, Should be the burning signal for my flight From all the world's best image, which is here; Whose very shadow, in my fond compare, Shines far more bright than Beauty's self elsewhere."

IX.

Their cheeks are white as blossoms of the dark, Whose leaves close up and show the outward pale, And those fair mirrors where their joys did spark, All dim and tarnish'd with a dreary veil, No more to kindle till the night's return, Like stars replenish'd at Joy's golden urn.

X.

Ev'n thus they creep into the spectral gray, That cramps the landscape in its narrow brim, As when two shadows by old Lethe stray, He clasping her, and she entwining him; Like trees, wind-parted, that embrace anon,-- True love so often goes before 'tis gone.

XI.

For what rich merchant but will pause in fear, To trust his wealth to the unsafe abyss? So Hero dotes upon her treasure here, And sums the loss with many an anxious kiss, Whilst her fond eyes grow dizzy in her head, Fear aggravating fear with shows of dread.

XII.

She thinks how many have been sunk and drown'd, And spies their snow-white bones below the deep, Then calls huge congregated monsters round, And plants a rock wherever he would leap; Anon she dwells on a fantastic dream, Which she interprets of that fatal stream.

XIII.

Saying, "That honied fly I saw was thee, Which lighted on a water-lily's cup, When, lo! the flower, enamor'd of my bee, Closed on him suddenly and lock'd him up, And he was smother'd in her drenching dew; Therefore this day thy drowning I shall rue."

XIV.

But next, remembering her virgin fame, She clips him in her arms and bids him go, But seeing him break loose, repents her shame, And plucks him back upon her bosom's snow; And tears unfix her iced resolve again, As steadfast frosts are thaw'd by show'rs of rain.

XV.

O for a type of parting!--Love to love Is like the fond attraction of two spheres, Which needs a godlike effort to remove, And then sink down their sunny atmospheres, In rain and darkness on each ruin'd heart, Nor yet their melodies will sound apart.

XVI.

So brave Leander sunders from his bride; The wrenching pang disparts his soul in twain; Half stays with her, half goes towards the tide,-- And life must ache, until they join again. Now wouldst thou know the wideness of the wound?-- Mete every step he takes upon the ground.

XVII.

And for the agony and bosom-throe, Let it be measured by the wide vast air, For that is infinite, and so is woe, Since parted lovers breathe it everywhere. Look how it heaves Leander's laboring chest, Panting, at poise, upon a rocky crest!

XVIII.

From which he leaps into the scooping brine, That shocks his bosom with a double chill; Because, all hours, till the slow sun's decline, That cold divorcer will be 'twixt them still; Wherefore he likens it to Styx' foul tide, Where life grows death upon the other side.

XIX.

Then sadly he confronts his twofold toil Against rude waves and an unwilling mind, Wishing, alas! with the stout rower's toil, That like a rower he might gaze behind, And watch that lonely statue he hath left, On her bleak summit, weeping and bereft!

XX.

Yet turning oft, he sees her troubled locks Pursue him still the furthest that they may; Her marble arms that overstretch the rocks, And her pale passion'd hands that seem to pray In dumb petition to the gods above: Love prays devoutly when it prays for love!

XXI.

Then with deep sighs he blows away the wave, That hangs superfluous tears upon his cheek, And bans his labor like a hopeless slave, That, chain'd in hostile galley, faint and weak, Plies on despairing through the restless foam, Thoughtful of his lost love, and far-off home.

XXII.

The drowsy mist before him chill and dank, Like a dull lethargy o'erleans the sea, When he rows on against the utter blank, Steering as if to dim eternity,-- Like Love's frail ghost departing with the dawn; A failing shadow in the twilight drawn.

XXIII.

And soon is gone,--or nothing but a faint And failing image in the eye of thought, That mocks his model with an after-paint, And stains an atom like the shape she sought; Then with her earnest vows she hopes to fee The old and hoary majesty of sea.

XXIV.

"O King of waves, and brother of high Jove, Preserve my sumless venture there afloat; A woman's heart, and its whole wealth of love, Are all embark'd upon that little boat; Nay!--but two loves, two lives, a double fate,-- A perilous voyage for so dear a freight."

XXV.

"If impious mariners be stain'd with crime, Shake not in awful rage thy hoary locks; Lay by thy storms until another time, Lest my frail bark be dash'd against the rocks: O rather smooth thy deeps, that he may fly Like Love himself, upon a seeming sky!"

XXVI.

"Let all thy herded monsters sleep beneath, Nor gore him with crook'd tusks, or wreathëd horns; Let no fierce sharks destroy him with their teeth, Nor spine-fish wound him with their venom'd thorns; But if he faint, and timely succor lack, Let ruthful dolphins rest him on their back."

XXVII.

"Let no false dimpling whirlpools suck him in, Nor slimy quicksands smother his sweet breath; Let no jagg'd corals tear his tender skin, Nor mountain billows bury him in death";-- And with that thought forestalling her own fears, She drowned his painted image in her tears.

XXVIII.

By this, the climbing Sun, with rest repair'd, Look'd through the gold embrasures of the sky, And ask'd the drowsy world how she had fared;-- The drowsy world shone brighten'd in reply; And smiling off her fogs, his slanting beam Spied young Leander in the middle stream.

XXXI.

His face was pallid, but the hectic morn Had hung a lying crimson on his cheeks, And slanderous sparkles in his eyes forlorn; So death lies ambush'd in consumptive streaks; But inward grief was writhing o'er its task, As heart-sick jesters weep behind the mask.

XXX.

He thought of Hero and the lost delight, Her last embracings, and the space between; He thought of Hero and the future night, Her speechless rapture and enamor'd mien, When, lo! before him, scarce two galleys' space, His thoughts confronted with another face!

XXXI.

Her aspect's like a moon, divinely fair, But makes the midnight darker that it lies on; 'Tis so beclouded with her coal-black hair That densely skirts her luminous horizon, Making her doubly fair, thus darkly set, As marble lies advantaged upon jet.

XXXII.

She's all too bright, too argent, and too pale, To be a woman;--but a woman's double, Reflected, on the wave so faint and frail, She tops the billows like an air-blown bubble; Or dim creation of a morning dream, Fair as the wave-bleached lily of the stream.

XXXIII.

The very rumor strikes his seeing dead: Great beauty like great fear first stuns the sense: He knows not if her lips be blue or red, Nor of her eyes can give true evidence: Like murder's witness swooning in the court, His sight falls senseless by its own report.

XXXIV.

Anon resuming, it declares her eyes Are tint with azure, like two crystal wells That drink the blue complexion of the skies, Or pearls outpeeping from their silvery shells: Her polish'd brow, it is an ample plain, To lodge vast contemplations of the main.

XXXV.

Her lips might corals seem, but corals near Stray through her hair like blossoms on a bower; And o'er the weaker red still domineer, And make it pale by tribute to more power; Her rounded cheeks are of still paler hue, Touch'd by the bloom of water, tender blue.

XXXVI.

Thus he beholds her rocking on the water, Under the glossy umbrage of her hair, Like pearly Amphitrite's fairest daughter, Naiad, or Nereid,--or Syren fair, Mislodging music in her pitiless breast, A nightingale within a falcon's nest.

XXXVII.

They say there be such maidens in the deep, Charming poor mariners, that all too near By mortal lullabies fall dead asleep, As drowsy men are poison'd through the ear; Therefore Leander's fears begin to urge, This snowy swan is come to sing his dirge.

XXXVIII.

At which he falls into a deadly chill, And strains his eyes upon her lips apart; Fearing each breath to feel that prelude shrill, Pierce through his marrow, like a breath-blown dart Shot sudden from an Indian's hollow cane, With mortal venom fraught, and fiery pain.

XXXIX.

Here then, poor wretch, how he begins to crowd A thousand thoughts within a pulse's space; There seem'd so brief a pause of life allow'd, His mind stretch'd universal, to embrace The whole wide world, in an extreme farewell,-- A moment's musing--but an age to tell.

XL.

For there stood Hero, widow'd at a glance, The foreseen sum of many a tedious fact, Pale cheeks, dim eyes, and wither'd countenance, A wasted ruin that no wasting lack'd; Time's tragic consequents ere time began, A world of sorrow in a tear-drop's span.

XLI.

A moment's thinking is an hour in words,-- An hour of words is little for some woes; Too little breathing a long life affords For love to paint itself by perfect shows; Then let his love and grief unwrong'd lie dumb, Whilst Fear, and that it fears, together come.

XLII.

As when the crew, hard by some jutty cape, Struck pale and panick'd by the billow's roar, Lay by all timely measures of escape, And let their bark go driving on the shore; So fray'd Leander, drifting to his wreck, Gazing on Scylla, falls upon her neck.

XLIII.

For he hath all forgot the swimmer's art, The rower's cunning, and the pilot's skill, Letting his arms fall down in languid part, Sway'd by the waves, and nothing by his will, Till soon he jars against that glossy skin, Solid like glass, though seemingly as thin.

XLIV.

Lo! how she startles at the warning shock, And straightway girds him to her radiant breast, More like his safe smooth harbor than his rock; Poor wretch, he is so faint and toil-opprest, He cannot loose him from his grappling foe, Whether for love or hate, she lets not go.

XLV.

His eyes are blinded with the sleety brine, His ears are deafen'd with the wildering noise; He asks the purpose of her fell design, But foamy waves choke up his struggling voice; Under the ponderous sea his body dips, And Hero's name dies bubbling on his lips.

XLVI.

Look how a man is lower'd to his grave,-- A yearning hollow in the green earth's lap; So he is sunk into the yawning wave,-- The plunging sea fills up the watery gap; Anon he is all gone, and nothing seen But likeness of green turf and hillocks green.

XLVII.

And where he swam, the constant sun lies sleeping, Over the verdant plain that makes his bed; And all the noisy waves go freshly leaping. Like gamesome boys over the churchyard dead; The light in vain keeps looking for his face:-- Now screaming sea-fowl settle in his place.

XLVIII.

Yet weep and watch for him, though all in vain! Ye moaning billows, seek him as ye wander! Ye gazing sunbeams, look for him again! Ye winds, grow hoarse with asking for Leander! Ye did but spare him for more cruel rape, Sea-storm and ruin in a female shape!

XLIX.

She says 'tis love hath bribed her to this deed, The glancing of his eyes did so bewitch her. O bootless theft! unprofitable meed! Love's treasury is sack'd, but she no richer; The sparkles of his eyes are cold and dead, And all his golden looks are turn'd to lead!

L.

She holds the casket, but her simple hand Hath spill'd its dearest jewel by the way; She hath life's empty garment at command, But her own death lies covert in the prey; As if a thief should steal a tainted vest, Some dead man's spoil, and sicken of his pest.

LI.

Now she compels him to her deeps below, Hiding his face beneath her plenteous hair, Which jealously she shakes all round her brow, For dread of envy, though no eyes are there But seals', and all brute tenants of the deep, Which heedless through the wave their journeys keep.

LII.

Down and still downward through the dusky green She bore him, murmuring with joyous haste In too rash ignorance, as he had been Born to the texture of that watery waste; That which she breathed and sigh'd, the emerald wave, How could her pleasant home become his grave!

LIII.

Down and still downward through the dusky green She bore her treasure, with a face too nigh To mark how life was alter'd in its mien, Or how the light grew torpid in his eye, Or how his pearly breath, unprison'd there, Flew up to join the universal air.

LIV.

She could not miss the throbbings of his heart, Whilst her own pulse so wanton'd in its joy; She could not guess he struggled to depart, And when he strove no more, the hapless boy! She read his mortal stillness for content, Feeling no fear where only love was meant.

LV.

Soon she alights upon her ocean-floor, And straight unyokes her arms from her fair prize; Then on his lovely face begins to pore, As if to glut her soul;--her hungry eyes Have grown so jealous of her arms' delight; It seems she hath no other sense but sight.

LVI.

But O sad marvel! O most bitter strange! What dismal magic makes his cheek so pale? Why will he not embrace,--why not exchange Her kindly kisses;--wherefore not exhale Some odorous message from life's ruby gates, Where she his first sweet embassy awaits?

LVII.

Her eyes, poor watchers, fix'd upon his looks, Are grappled with a wonder near to grief, As one, who pores on undecipher'd books, Strains vain surmise, and dodges with belief; So she keeps gazing with a mazy thought, Framing a thousand doubts that end in nought.

LVIII.

Too stern inscription for a page so young, The dark translation of his look was death! But death was written in an alien tongue, And learning was not by to give it breath; So one deep woe sleeps buried in its seal, Which Time, untimely, hasteth to reveal.

LIX.

Meanwhile she sits unconscious of her hap, Nursing Death's marble effigy, which there With heavy head lies pillow'd in her lap, And elbows all unhinged;--his sleeking hair Creeps o'er her knees, and settles where his hand Leans with lax fingers crook'd against the sand;

LX.

And there lies spread in many an oozy trail, Like glossy weeds hung from a chalky base, That shows no whiter than his brow is pale; So soon the wintry death had bleach'd his face Into cold marble,--with blue chilly shades, Showing wherein the freezy blood pervades.

LXI.

And o'er his steadfast cheek a furrow'd pain Hath set, and stiffened like a storm in ice, Showing by drooping lines the deadly strain Of mortal anguish;--yet you might gaze twice Ere Death it seem'd, and not his cousin, Sleep, That through those creviced lids did underpeep.

LXII.

But all that tender bloom about his eyes, Is Death's own violets, which his utmost rite It is to scatter when the red rose dies; For blue is chilly, and akin to white: Also he leaves some tinges on his lips, Which he hath kiss'd with such cold frosty nips.

LXIII.

"Surely," quoth she, "he sleeps, the senseless thing, Oppress'd and faint with toiling in the stream!" Therefore she will not mar his rest, but sing So low, her tune shall mingle with his dream; Meanwhile, her lily fingers task to twine His uncrispt locks uncurling in the brine.

LXIV.

"O lovely boy!"--thus she attuned her voice,-- "Welcome, thrice welcome, to a sea-maid's home, My love-mate thou shalt be, and true heart's choice; How have I long'd such a twin-self should come,-- A lonely thing, till this sweet chance befell, My heart kept sighing like a hollow shell."

LXV.

"Here thou shalt live, beneath this secret dome, An ocean-bow'r, defended by the shade Of quiet waters, a cool emerald gloom To lap thee all about. Nay, be not fray'd, Those are but shady fishes that sail by Like antic clouds across my liquid sky!"

LXVI.

"Look how the sunbeam burns upon their scales, And shows rich glimpses of their Tyrian skins; They flash small lightnings from their vigorous tails, And winking stars are kindled at their fins; These shall divert thee in thy weariest mood, And seek thy hand for gamesomeness and food."

LXVII.

"Lo! those green pretty leaves with tassel bells, My flow'rets those, that never pine for drouth; Myself did plant them in the dappled shells, That drink the wave with such a rosy mouth,-- Pearls wouldst thou have beside? crystals to shine? I had such treasures once,--now they are thine."

LXVIII.