To have thee understand, now while I clasp Thee thus, and weep for fondness-I am pain'd, Endymion: woe! woe! is grief contain'd
In the very deeps of pleasure, my sole life?"— Hereat, with many sobs, her gentle strife Melted into a languor. He return'd
Entranced vows and tears.
With too much passion, will here stay and pity,
For the mere sake of truth; as 'tis a ditty Not of these days, but long ago 'twas told By a cavern wind unto a forest old; And then the forest told it in a dream To a sleeping lake, whose cool and level gleam A poet caught as he was journeying To Phoebus' shrine; and in it he did fling His weary limbs, bathing an hour's space, And after, straight in that inspired place He sang the story up into the air, Giving it universal freedom.
Has it been ever sounding for those ears Whose tips are glowing hot. The legend cheers Yon sentinel stars; and he who listens to it Must surely be self-doom'd or he will rue it : For quenchless burnings come upon the heart, Made fiercer by a fear lest any part Should be engulfed in the eddying wind. As much as here is penn'd doth always find
A resting-place, thus much comes clear and plain ; Anon the strange voice is upon the wane- And 'tis but echoed from departing sound, That the fair visitant at last unwound
Her gentle limbs, and left the youth asleep.- Thus the tradition of the gusty deep.
Now turn we to our former chroniclers.- Endymion awoke, that grief of hers Sweet paining on his ear: he sickly guess'd
How lone he was once more, and sadly press'd His empty arms together, hung his head, And most forlorn upon that widow'd bed Sat silently. Love's madness he had known: Often with more than tortured lion's groan Moanings had burst from him; but now that rage Had pass'd away: no longer did he wage
A rough-voiced war against the dooming stars. No, he had felt too much for such harsh jars: The lyre of his soul Æolian tuned
Forgot all violence, and but communed With melancholy thought: O he had swoon'd Drunken from pleasure's nipple! and his love Henceforth was dove-like.-Loath was he to move From the imprinted couch, and when he did, 'Twas with slow, languid paces, and face hid In muffling hands. So temper'd, out he stray'd Half seeing visions that might have dismay'd Alecto's serpents; ravishments more keen Than Hermes' pipe, when anxious he did lean Over eclipsing eyes and at the last
It was a sounding grotto, vaulted, vast, O'erstudded with a thousand, thousand pearls, And crimson-mouthed shells with stubborn curls, Of every shape and size, even to the bulk
In which whales harbour close, to brood and sulk Against an endless storm. Moreover too,
Fish-semblances, of green and azure hue,
Ready to snort their streams. In this cool wonder Endymion sat down, and 'gan to ponder
On all his life: his youth, up to the day
When 'mid acclaim, and feasts, and garlands gay, He stepp'd upon his shepherd throne: the look Of his white palace in wild forest nook, And all the revels he had lorded there: Each tender maiden whom he once thought fair, With every friend and fellow-woodlander- Pass'd like a dream before him. Then the spur Of the old bards to mighty deeds: his plans
To nurse the golden age 'mong shepherd clans: That wondrous night: the great Pan-festival: His sister's sorrow; and his wanderings all, Until into the earth's deep maw he rush'd: Then all its buried magic, till it flush'd
High with excessive love. "And now," thought he, "How long must I remain in jeopardy
Of blank amazements that amaze no more? Now I have tasted her sweet soul to the core, All other depths are shallow: essences, Once spiritual, are like muddy lees, Meant but to fertilise my earthly root,
And make my branches lift a golden fruit Into the bloom of heaven: other light, Though it be quick and sharp enough to blight The Olympian eagle's vision, is dark, Dark as the parentage of chaos. Hark!
My silent thoughts are echoing from these shells; Or they are but the ghosts, the dying swells Of noises far away?-list!"-Hereupon He kept an anxious ear. The humming tone Came louder, and behold, there as he lay, On either side outgush'd, with misty spray, A copious spring; and both together dash'd Swift, mad, fantastic round the rocks, and lash'd Among the conchs and shells of the lofty grot, Leaving a trickling dew. At last they shot Down from the ceiling's height, pouring a noise As of some breathless racers whose hopes poise Upon the last few steps, and with spent force Along the ground they took a winding course. Endymion follow'd-for it seem'd that one Ever pursued, the other strove to shun- Follow'd their languid mazes, till well nigh He had left thinking of the mystery,- And was now rapt in tender hoverings Over the vanish'd bliss. Ah! what is it sings His dream away? What melodies are these? They sound as through the whispering of trees, Not native in such barren vaults. Give ear!
"O Arethusa, peerless nymph! why fear Such tenderness as mine? Great Dian, why, Why didst thou hear her prayer? O that I Were rippling round her dainty fairness now, Circling about her waist, and striving how To entice her to a dive! then stealing in Between her luscious lips and eyelids thin. O that her shining hair was in the sun, And I distilling from it thence to run In amorous rillets down her shrinking form! To linger on her lily shoulders, warm Between her kissing breasts, and every charm Touch raptured!-See how painfully I flow: Fair maid, be pitiful to my great woe.
Stay, stay thy weary course, and let me lead, A happy wooer, to the flowery mead
Where all that beauty snared me."-" Cruel god, Desist! or my offended mistress' nod
Will stagnate all thy fountains:-tease me not With syren words-Ah, have I really got Such power to madden thee? And is it true- Away, away, or I shall dearly rue
My very thoughts: in mercy then away, Kindest Alpheus, for should I obey
My own dear will, 'twould be a deadly bane."- "O, Oread-Queen! would that thou hadst a pain Like this of mine, then would I fearless turn And be a criminal."-" Alas, I burn,
I shudder-gentle river, get thee hence. Alpheus! thou enchanter! every sense
Of mine was once made perfect in these woods. Fresh breezes, bowery lawns, and innocent floods, Ripe fruits, and lonely couch, contentment gave; But ever since I heedlessly did lave
In thy deceitful stream, a panting glow Grew strong within me: wherefore serve me so, And call it love? Alas! 'twas cruelty. Not once more did I close my happy eyes Amid the thrush's song.. Away! avaunt! O 'twas a cruel thing."" Now thou dost taunt
So softly, Arethusa, that I think
If thou wast playing on my shady brink,
Thou wouldst bathe once again. Innocent maid! Stifle thine heart no more;-nor be afraid
Of angry powers: there are deities
Will shade us with their wings.
'Tis almost death to hear: O let me pour
A dewy balm upon them!-fear no more, Sweet Arethusa! Dian's self must feel, Sometimes, these very pangs. Dear maiden, steal Blushing into my soul, and let us fly These dreary caverns for the open sky. I will delight thee all my winding course, From the green sea up to my hidden source About Arcadian forests; and will show The channels where my coolest waters flow Through mossy rocks; where 'mid exuberant green, I roam in pleasant darkness, more unseen Than Saturn in his exile; where I brim Round flowery islands, and take thence a skim Of mealy sweets, which myriads of bees
Buzz from their honey'd wings: and thou shouldst please
Thyself to choose the richest, where we might Be incense-pillow'd every summer night. Doff all sad fears, thou white deliciousness, And let us be thus comforted; unless
Thou couldst rejoice to see my hopeless stream Hurry distracted from Sol's temperate beam, And pour to death along some hungry sands."- "What can I do, Alpheus? Dian stands Severe before me: persecuting fate! Unhappy Arethusa! thou wast late
A huntress free in-" At this, sudden fell Those two sad streams adown a fearful dell. The Latmian listen'd, but he heard no more, Save echo, faint repeating o'er and o'er The name of Arethusa. On the verge Of that dark gulf he wept, and said: "I urge
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