When last the sun his autumn tresses shook, And the tanned harvesters rich armfuls took. Soon was he quieted to slumbrous rest: But, ere it crept upon him, he had prest Peona's busy hand against his lips,
And still, a-sleeping, held her finger-tips In tender pressure. And as a willow keeps A patient watch over the stream that creeps Windingly by it, so the quiet maid
Held her in peace: so that a whispering blade Of grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling
Down in the bluebells, or a wren light rustling Among sere leaves and twigs, might all be heard.
O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hushed and smooth! O unconfined Restraint imprisoned liberty! great key To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy, Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves, Echoing grottoes, full of tunibling waves And moonlight; ay, to all the mazy world Of silvery enchantment !-who, upfurled Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour, But renovates and lives?—Thus, in the bower, Endymion was calmed to life again. Opening his eyelids with a healthier brain, He said: "I feel this thine endearing love All through my bosom: thou art as a dove Trembling its closed eyes and sleek wings About me; and the pearliest dew not brings Such morning incense from the fields of May, As do those brighter drops that twinkling stray From those kind eyes-the very home and haunt
Of sisterly affection. Can I want
Aught else, aught nearer heaven, than such tears? Yet dry them up, in bidding hence all fears That, any longer, I will pass my days
Alone and sad. No, I will once more raise My voice upon the mountain-heights; once more Make my horn parley from their foreheads hoar: Again my trooping hounds their tongues shall loll Around the breathed boar: again I'll poll The fair-grown yew tree, for a chosen bow: And, when the pleasant sun is getting low, Again I'll linger in a sloping mead
To hear the speckled thrushes, and see feed Our idle sheep. So be thou cheered sweet, And, if thy lute is here, softly entreat My soul to keep in its resolvèd course."
Hereat Peona, in their silver source,
Shut her pure sorrow drops with glad exclaim, And took a lute, from which there pulsing came A lively prelude, fashioning the way
In which her voice should wander. 'Twas a lay More subtle cadenced, more forest wild Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child; And nothing since has floated in the air So mournful strange. Surely some influence rare Went, spiritual, through the damsel's hand; For still, with Delphic emphasis, she spanned The quick invisible strings, even though she saw Endymion's spirit melt away and thaw Before the deep intoxication.
But soon she came, with sudden burst, upon Her self-possession-swung the lute aside,
And earnestly said "Brother, 'tis vain to hide
That thou dost know of things mysterious, Immortal, starry; such alone could thus
Weigh down thy nature. Hast thou sinned in aught Offensive to the heavenly powers? Caught
A Paphian dove upon a message sent? Thy deathful bow against some deer-herd bent, Sacred to Dian? Haply, thou hast seen Her naked limbs among the alders green; And that, alas! is death. No, I can trace Something more high perplexing in thy face!"
Endymion looked at her, and pressed her hand, And said, "Art thou so pale, who wast so bland And merry in our meadows? How is this? Tell me thine ailment: tell me all amiss! Ah! thou hast been unhappy at the change Wrought suddenly in me. What indeed more strange? Or more complete to overwhelm surmise? Ambition is no sluggard: 'tis no prize, That toiling years would put within my grasp, That I have sighed for: with so deadly gasp No man e'er panted for a mortal love.
So all have set my heavier grief above
These things which happen. Rightly have they done: I, who still saw the horizontal sun
Heave his broad shoulder o'er the edge of the world, Out-facing Lucifer, and then had hurled My spear aloft, as signal for the chase- I, who, for very sport of heart, would race With my own steed from Araby; pluck down A vulture from his towery perching; frown A lion into growling, loth retire- To lose, at once, all my toil-breeding fire,
And sink thus low! but I will ease my breast Of secret grief, here in this bowery nest.
"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; The 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 blossomed 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
What it might mean. Perhaps, thought I, Morphet 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 colours, wings, and bursts of spangly light;
The which became more strange, and strange, and dim, And then were gulfed 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 overteem 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 way Among the stars in virgin splendour pours; and travelling my eye, until the doors Of heaven appeared to open for my flight; I became loath and fearful to alight
From such high soaring by a downward glance : So kept me steadfast in that airy trance, Spreading imaginary pinions wide.
When, presently, the stars began to glide, And faint away, before my eager view: At which I sighed that I could not pursue, And dropt my vision to the horizon's verge; And lo! from opening clouds, I saw emerge The loveliest moon, that ever silvered o'er A shell from Neptune's goblet : she did soar So passionately bright, my dazzled soul Commingling with her argent spheres did roll Through clear and cloudy, even when she went At last into a dark and vapoury tent- Whereat, methought, the lidless-eyed train Of planets all were in the blue again.
To commune with those orbs, once more I raised My sight right upward: but it was quite dazed By a bright something, sailing down apace, Making me quickly veil my eyes and face: F
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