With crystal mocking of the trees and sky.
A little shallop, floating there hard by,
Pointed its beak over the fringed bank;
And soon it lightly dipt, and rose, and sank,
And dipt again, with the young couple's weight,
Peona guiding, through the water straight,
Towards a bowery island opposite;
Which gaining presently, she steered light
Into a shady, fresh, and ripply cove,
Where nested was an arbour, overwove
By many a summer's silent fingering;

To whose cool bosom she was us'd to bring
Her playmates, with their needle broidery,
And minstrel memories of times gone by.
So she was gently glad to see him laid
Under her favourite bower's quiet shade,
On her own couch, new made of flower leaves,
Dried carefully on the cooler side of sheaves
When last the sun his autumn tresses shook,
And the tann'd 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 seer leaves and twigs, might all be heard.

450

O magic sleep! O comfortable bird,
That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind

Till it is hush'd and smooth!

O unconfin'd

455

Restraint! imprison'd liberty! great key

To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy,

Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves,
Echoing grottos, full of tumbling waves

And moonlight; aye, to all the mazy world

460

Of silvery enchantment ! — who, upfurl'd
Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour,

But renovates and lives? Thus, in the bower,
Endymion was calm'd to life again.

Opening his eyelids with a healthier brain,

465

He said: "I feel this thine endearing love
All through my bosom: thou art as a dove
Trembling its closed eyes and sleeked 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

470

475

My voice upon the mountain-heights; once more
Make my horn parley from their foreheads hoar :
Again my trooping hounds their tongues shall loll 480
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 intreat
My soul to keep in its resolved course."

485

Hereat Peona, in their silver source,

Shut her pure sorrow drops with glad exclaim,

490

And took a lute, from which there pulsing came
A lively prelude, fashioning the way

In which her voice should wander. 'T was a lay

More subtle cadenced, more forest wild
Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child;

495

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 spann'd

The quick invisible strings, even though she saw
Endymion's spirit melt away and thaw

500

Before the deep intoxication.

But soon she came, with sudden burst, upon

Her self-possession-swung the lute aside,
And earnestly said: "Brother, 't is vain to hide
That thou dost know of things mysterious,
Immortal, starry; such alone could thus

Weigh down thy nature.

505

Hast thou sinn'd in aught

Offensive to the heavenly powers? Caught

A Paphian dove upon a message sent?

510

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!"

515

Endymion look'd at her, and press'd 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

520

Wrought suddenly in me. What indeed more strange?

Or more complete to overwhelm surmise?
Ambition is no sluggard: 't is no prize,
That toiling years would put within my grasp,
That I have sigh'd 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

525

Heave his broad shoulder o'er the edge of the world, 530
Out-facing Lucifer, and then had hurl'd

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 —

535

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,

540

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:

545

And in that nook, the very pride of June,
Had I been us'd 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 tighten up the golden reins,

550

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 :

555

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, Morpheus,
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;

560

565

The which became more strange, and strange, and dim, 570

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 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

575

580

Of heaven appear'd to open for my flight,

I became loth and fearful to alight

From such high soaring by a downward glance:

585

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 sigh'd that I could not pursue,