Fled like a sunny beam; Behind her descended Her billows, unblended With the brackish Dorian stream: On the emerald main Alpheus rushed behind,— A dove to its ruin Down the streams of the cloudy wind. Under the bowers Where the Ocean Powers Sit on their pearled thrones: Over heaps of unvalued stones; Weave a net-work of coloured light; Are as green as the forest's night :- And the sword-fish dark, Under the ocean foam, And up through the rifts Of the mountain clifts They passed to their Dorian home. And now from their fountains In Enna's mountains, Down one vale where the morning bassa. Grown single-hearted, They ply their watery tasks. From their cradles steep Beneath the Ortygian shore; Like spirits that lie In the azure sky When they love but live no more. HYMN OF APOLLO. THE sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie, Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes,— Waken me when their Mother, the grey Dawn, Tells them that dreams and that the moon is gone. Then I arise, and climbing Heaven's blue dome, My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the caves Are filled with my bright presence, and the air Leaves the green earth to my embraces bare. The sunbeams are my shafts, with which I kill Fly me, and from the glory of my ray I feed the clouds, the rainbows, and the flowers, Are tinctured with my power as with a robe; I stand at noon upon the peak of Heaven, For grief that I depart they weep and frown: I am the eye with which the Universe All prophecy, all medicine are mine, HYMN OF PAN. FROM the forests and highlands Where loud waves are dumb Listening to my sweet pipings. Liquid Peneus was flowing, And all dark Tempe lay In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing Speeded with my sweet pipings. The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns, And the Nymphs of the woods and waves, I sang of the dancing stars, I sang of the dædal Earth, And of Heaven-and the giant wars, And then I changed my pipings,— It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed: This and the former poem were written at the request of a friend, to be inserted in a drama on the subject of Midas. Apollo and Pan contended before Tmolus for the prize in music THE QUESTION. I DREAMED that, as I wandered by the way, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the bosom of the stream, There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cow-bind and the moonlight-coloured May, And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes bohold. And nearer to the river's trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prankt with white, And starry river-buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way THE TWO SPIRITS. AN ALLEGORY. FIRST SPIRIT. O THOU, who plumed with strong desire Bright are the regions of the air, SECOND SPIRIT. The deathless stars are bright above: And the moon will smile with gentle light FIRST SPIRIT. But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken The red swift clouds of the hurricane SECOND SPIRIT. I see the light, and I hear the sound; And thou, when the gloom is deep and stark, On high, far away. |