"O thou inconstant!" said he, "if stern law Bind thee, or will, stronger than sternest law, O, let me know henceforward when to hope The fruit of love that grows for me but here." He spake; and pluck'd it from its pliant stem. "Impatient Rhaicos! Why thus intercept The answer I would give? There is a bee Whom I have fed, a bee who knows my thoughts And executes my wishes: I will send That messenger. If ever thou art false, Drawn by another, own it not, but drive My bee away; then shall I know my fate. And-for thou must be wretched-weep at thine. But often as my heart persuades to lay Its cares on thine and throb itself to rest, Expect her with thee, whether it be morn Or eve, at any time when woods are safe." Day after day the Hours beheld them blest, And season after season: years had past, 245 Blest were they still. He who asserts that Love Ever is sated of sweet things, the same Sweet things he fretted for in earlier days, Never, by Zeus! loved he a Hamadryad. 1 A kind of sweet shrub. 2 A poisonous evergreen shrub with fragrant flowers. The night had now grown longer, and perhaps 250 The Hamadryads find them lone and dull The solitary place, but moan'd and died. Hence milk and honey wonder not, O guest, Among their woods; one did, alas! She 285 To find set duly on the hollow stone. ON MUSIC 1853 Many love music but for music's sake, And rise to follow where she loves to lead. 5 What various feelings come from days gone by! What tears from far-off sources dim the eye! Few, when light fingers with sweet voices play And melodies swell, pause, and melt away, Mind how at every touch, at every tone, 10 A spark of life hath glisten'd and hath gone. DEATH STANDS ABOVE ME Death stands above me, whispering low ON HIS SEVENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 1853 I strove with none; for none was worth my strife, Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life, It sinks, and I am ready to depart. I ENTREAT YOU, ALFRED TENNYSON I entreat you, Alfred Tennyson, Good, but better when you share it. 5 Tho' 'tis only a small bin, There's a stock of it within. And as sure as I'm a rhymer, Half a butt of Rudesheimer. Come; among the sons of men is one 10 Welcomer than Alfred Tennyson? TO E. ARUNDELL 1853 Nature! thou mayest fume and fret, There's but one white violet; Scatter o'er the vernal ground Faint resemblances around, 5 Nature! I will tell thee yet There's but one white violet. AGE 1853 Death, tho' I see him not, is near And grudges me my eightieth year. And cast them into shape some other day. THE THREE ROSES1 When the buds began to burst, 5 Till before us up there stood 10 Since a Second Rose and I (Rose from that same stem) have told 1 Rose Aylmer (see Rose Aulmer, p. 963), the LATELY OUR SONGSTERS LOITER'D Lately our songsters loiter'd in green Content to catch the ballads of the plains; I fancied I had strength enough to climb A loftier station at no distant time, 5 And might securely from intrusion doze, Upon the flowers thro' which Ilissus flows. In those pale olive grounds all voices cease, And from afar dust fills the paths of Greece. My slumber broken, and my doublet torn, 10 I find the laurel2 also bears a thorn. From HEROIC IDYLS THESEUS AND HIPPOLYTA Hippolyta. Eternal hatred I have sworn against The persecutor of my sisterhood; In vain, proud son of Egeus, hast thou snapped Their arrows and derided them; in vain 5 Leadest thou me a captive; I can die, And die I will. Theseus. Nay; many are the years Of youth and beauty for Hippolyta. Hippolyta. I scorn my youth, I hate my beauty. Go! Monster! of all the monsters in these wilds 10 Most frightful and most odious to my sight. 15 Theseus. I boast not that I saved thee from the bow 20 truth, however false In other things. Theseus. What other? Thou dost pause, And thine eyes wander over the smooth turf As if some gem (but gem thou wearest not) Had fallen from the remnant of thy hair. Hippolyta! speak plainly, answer me, 25. What have I done to raise thy fear or hate? Hippolyta. Fear I despise, perfidy I abhor. 30 Unworthy man! did Heracles delude Theseus. Thou chide him! thou! The Spartan mothers well remember thee. Theseus. Scorn adds no beauty to the beautiful. Heracles was beloved by Omphale, He never parted from her, but obey'd 35 Her slightest wish, as Theseus will Hippolyta's. Hippolyta. Then leave me, leave me instantly; I know The way to my own country. Theseus. This command, And only this, my heart must disobey. My country shall be thine, and there thy state 45 And taught me early to divide the waves With arms each day more strong, and soon 50 to chase And overtake the father swan, nor heed A fate like mine, which, O ye Gods, for bid! Theseus. I pity thee, and would assuage thy grief. Hippolyta. Pity me not: thy anger I could bear. |