[Endymion speaks, to his Sister Peona.]

"This river does not see the naked sky, Till it begins to progress silverly Around the western border of the wood, Whence, from a certain spot, its winding flood

Seems at the distance like a crescent moon;

And in that nook, the very pride of June, Had I been used to pass my weary eves; There rather for the sun unwilling leaves So dear a picture of his sovereign power, And I could witness his most kingly hour, When he doth lighten up the golden

reins,

And paces leisurely down amber plains His snorting four. Now when his chariot last

Its beams against the zodiac-lion cast,
There blossom'd suddenly a magic bed
Of sacred ditamy, and poppies red:
At which I wondered greatly, knowing
well

That but one night had wrought this flowery spell;

And, sitting down close by, began to

muse

In passing here, his owlet pinions shook; Or, it may be, ere matron Night uptook Her ebon urn, young Mercury, by stealth, Had dipt his rod in it: such garland wealth

Came not by common growth. Thus on I thought,

Until my head was dizzy and distraught. Moreover, through the dancing poppies stole

A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul; And shaping visions all about my sight Of colors, wings, and bursts of spangly light;

The which became more strange, and strange, and dim,

And then were gulf'd in a tumultuous swim:

And then I fell asleep. Ah, can I tell The enchantment that afterwards befell? Yet it was but a dream: yet such a dream That never tongue, although it overte m With mellow utterance, like a cavern spring,

Could figure out and to conception bring All I beheld and felt. Methought I lay Watching the zenith, where the milky

My sight right upward: but it was quite dazed

By a bright something, sailing down

a pace.

Making me quickly veil my eyes and face:

Again I look'd, and, O ye deities,
Who from Olympus watch our destinies!
Whence that completed form of all com.
pleteness?

Whence came that high perfection of all sweetness?

Speak. stubborn earth, and tell me where, O where

sun;

Hast thou a symbol of her golden hair? Not oat-sheaves drooping in the western [shun Not-thy soft hand, fair sister! let me Such follying before thee-yet, she had, Indeed, locks bright enough to make me mad;

And they were simply gordian'd up and braided,

Leaving, in naked comeliness, unshaded, Her pearl round ears, white neck, and orbed brow;

The which were blended in, I know not how,

With such a paradise of lips and eyes, Blush-tinted cheeks, half smiles, and faintest sighs,

That, when I think thereon, my spirit clings

And plays about its fancy, till the stings
Of human neighborhood envenom all.
Unto what awful power shall I call?
To what high fane?-Ah! see her hover-
ing feet,

More bluely vein'd, more soft, more whitely sweet

Than those of sea-born Venus, when she

Methought I fainted at the charmed

touch,

Yet held my recollection, even as one Who dives three fathoms where the waters run

Gurgling in beds of coral: for anon,
I felt upmounted in that region
Where falling stars dart their artillery
forth,

And eagles struggle with the buffeting north

That balances the heavy meteor-stone ;Felt too, I was not fearful, nor alone, But lapp'd and lull'd along the dangerous sky.

Soon, as it seem'd, we left our journeying high,

And straightway into frightful eddies swoop'd;

Such as aye muster where gray time has scoop'd

Huge dens and caverns in a mountain's side:

Their hollow sounds arous'd me, and I sigh'd

To faint once more by looking on my bliss

I was distracted; madly did I kiss The wooing arms which held me, and did give

My eyes at once to death: but 'twas to live,

To take in draughts of life from the gold fount

Of kind and passionate looks; to count, and count

The moments, by some greedy help that seem'd [deem'd A second self, that each might be reAnd plunder'd of its load of blessedness. Ah, desperate mortal! I ev'n dar'd to

FROM BOOK II

INVOCATION TO THE POWER OF LOVE

O SOVEREIGN power of love! O grief! O balm !

All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm,

And shadowy, through the mist of passed years:

For others, good or bad, hatred and tears Have become indolent; but touching thine,

One sigh doth echo, one poor sob doth pine,

One kiss brings honey-dew from buried days.

The woes of Troy, towers smothering o'er their blaze,

Stiff-holden shields, far-piercing spears, keen blades,

Struggling, and blood, and shrieks-all dimly fades

Into some backward corner of the brain; Yet, in our very souls, we feel amain The close of Troilus and Cressid sweet. Hence, pageant history! hence, gilded cheat!

Swart planet in the universe of deeds! Wide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds

Along the pebbled shore of memory!
Many old rotten-timber'd boats there be
Upon thy vaporous bosom, magnified
To goodly vessels; many a sail of pride,
And golden keel'd, is left unlaunch'd
and dry.

But wherefore this? What care, though owl did fly

About the great Athenian admiral's

mast?

What care, though striding Alexander

past

The Indus with his Macedonian numbers? Though old Ulysses tortured from his slumbers

The glutted Cyclops, what care?-Juliet leaning

Amid her window-flowers,-sighing,weaning

Tenderly her fancy from its maiden [flow

snow, Doth more avail than these: the silver Of Hero's tears, the swoon of Imogen, Fair Pastorella in the bandit's den, Are things to brood on with more ardency Than the death-day of empires. Fearfully Must such conviction come upon his

head,

But ah! she is so constant and so kind.

"Beneath my palm trees, by the river side,

I sat a-weeping: in the whole world wide There was no one to ask me why I wept,-And so I kept

Brimming the water-lily cups with tears Cold as my fears.

"Beneath my palm trees, by the river side, I sat a-weeping: what enamor'd bride, Cheated by shadowy wooer from the clouds,

But hides and shrouds Beneath dark palm trees by a river side? "And as I sat, over the light blue hills There came a noise of revellers: the rills Into the wide stream came of purple hue

'Twas Bacchus and his crew! The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills

From

kissing cymbals made a merry din

'Twas Bacchus and his kin! Like to a moving vintage down they

came,

Crown'd with green leaves, and faces all on flame:

All madly dancing through the pleasant valley,

To scare thee, Melancholy! O then, O then, thou wast a simple name!

And I forgot thee, as the berried holly By shepherds, is forgotten, when, in June,

Tall chestnuts keep away the sun and

moon :

I rush'd into the folly!

"Within his car, aloft, young Bacchus stood,

Trifling his ivy-dart, in dancing mood,
With sidelong laughing;
And little rills of crimson wine imbrued
His plump white arms, and shoulders,
enough white

For Venus' pearly bite;
And near him rode Silenus on his ass,
Pelted with flowers as he on did pass
Tipsily quaffing.

A conquering!

Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide,

We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide:

Come hither, lady fair, and joined be
To our wild minstrelsy!'

"Whence came ye, jolly Satyrs! whence came ye!

So many, and so many, and such glee? Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left

Your nuts in oak-tree cleft?— For wine, for wine we left our kernel tree;

For wine we left our heath, and yellow brooms,

And cold mushrooms;

For wine we follow Bacchus through the

earth;

Great God of breathless cups and chirping mirth!

Come hither, lady fair, and joined be
To our mad minstrelsy!'

"Over wide streams and mountains great we went,

[tent, And, save when Bacchus kept his ivy Onward the tiger and the leopard pants, With Asian elephants: Onward these myriads-with song and dance,

With zebras striped, and sleek Arabians' prance,

Web-footed alligators, crocodiles, Bearing upon their scaly backs, in files, Plump infant laughers mimicking the coil

Of seamen, and stout galley-rower's toil: With toying oars and silken sails they glide,

Nor care for wind and tide.

I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown Before the vine-wreath crown!

I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing
To the silver cymbals' ring!

I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce
Old Tartary the fierce!
The kings of Inde their jewel-sceptres
vail,

And from their treasures scatter pearled hail;

Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans,

And all his priesthood moans, Before young Bacchus' eye-wink turning pale.

Into these regions came I following him,

Sick-hearted, weary-so I took a whim To stray away into these forests drear Alone, without a peer:

And I have told thee all thou mayest hear.