Of birds or insects, when the year is new
Feeding upon the fragrant summer dew:
And there the untiring seasons bring, for aye,
To night rich slumber, and fresh life to day.
And Beauty, in her own eternal form,
(The same that witch'd the Dardan shepherd young) Abideth.-Art doth never there deform
The amaranthine hues which life hath flung
O'er lips and cheeks to crimson blushes stung;
But free as is the elemental air
Nature and Beauty live,—and both are fair.
And both might in De Varenne's home be seen,
For there his daughters wore the early day,
The one entranced by some high perilous scene,
The other, fonder of a gentler lay,
Read how the Gods from their celestial way
Would wander for the Naiads' loves, or take
An earthly form,—and all for Beauty's sake.
She read how Jove from out the gates of light
Came downwards, shining like a mist of gold,
And how fond Semele became star-bright,
And Anaxareté a statue cold,
Prisoned, tho' dead, within her mortal mould;
She read of made lovelier than the morn eyes
Through love, and blinded by excess of scorn.
And so her gentle spirit, fed by time
With radiant fable, from its earth up-grew,
(As mountain clouds float, erring but sublime,
Thro' the blue air) and hung on visions new,
Like wing'd Imagination false yet true:
And that imperial passion that doth reign
O'er every nerve, grew bright within her brain.—
-How beautiful is morning, when the streams Of light come running up the eastern skies! How beautiful is life, in those young dreams
Of joy, and faith,-of love that never flies, Chained like the soul to truth;-but ah ! it dies Sometimes, and sometimes, with the adder's spite Stings the true heart that nursed it, day and night.
And beautiful is great Apollo's page:
But they who dare to read his burning lines
Go mad,-and ever after with blind rage
Rave of the skiey secrets and bright signs:
But all they tell is vain; for death entwines
The struggling utterance, and the words expire
Dumb,-self-consum'd, like some too furious fire.
-One night a revel had been held, and dance
And song had sounded in the ear of night,
And many a gallant that had grasped a lance,
And been the foremost in a bloody fight,
Then moved a measure with his lady bright,
And pressed her jewell'd arm and told his pain.
Alas! that Love should ever speak in vain!
Only the lonely Eva sate apart,
While young Chatillion in her sister's ear
Poured his love music, till her beating heart,
And eyes that glittering grew and large and clear,
And the strange transport and the crimson fear
That stained the beauty of their cheeks, betrayed
How much the lover loved, and how the maid.
The midnight lamps were o'er them, and the flare
Of light, which shone at times and died away,
Glanced like the shifting sunshine on her hair,
And brought her ringlets out in rich array :
And there the lover's looks, like break of day,
Were seen, fixed-helpless :-Oh! a radiant spell
Was on him, and he knew its perils well.
But Eva, in the shadow dim, like one
Who sought her husband in the clouds, reclined;
A vestal of the world,-because the Sun..
Hid his tyrannic beauty:-there she pined,
Pale as a prophetess whose labouring mind
Gives out its knowledge; but her up-raised eyes
Shone with the languid light of one who loves or dies.
So, in one bright creation (through the earth Unmatch'd) is love writ down :-no words are there, But all is clear like some eternal birth
Of heaven, a golden star,—the azure air:
Oh! I remember well how soft, how fair,
That vision shone,-how like a dream of youth,
How full of life, and love, and burning truth!
Masses of living cloud were there,—and are;
And Love is there, unseen; and amorous light
Fills the dim ether; and the passionate war
Of kisses, like the silence of the night,
Is heard; and every branch and leaf is bright
With love; and in the trembling waters near,
Tamed by some presence, drinks the bending deer.
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