The tall ugly ape, that still bore a dim shine
Through his hairy eclipse of a manhood divine;
And the elephant stately, with more than its reason,
How thoughtful in sadness! but this is no season
To reckon them up from the lag-bellied toad

To the mammoth, whose sobs shook his ponderous load.
There were woes of all shapes, wretched forms, when I came,
That hung down their heads with a human-like shame ;
The elephant hid in the boughs, and the bear
Shed over his eyes the dark veil of his hair;
And the womanly soul, turning sick with disgust,
Tried to vomit herself from her serpentine crust;
While all groan'd their groans into one at their lot,
As I brought them the image of what they were not.
Then rose a wild sound of the human voice choaking
Through vile brutal organs-low tremulous croaking;
Cries swallow'd abruptly-deep animal tones
Attuned to strange passion, and full utter'd groans;
All shuddering weaker, till hush'd in a pause
Of tongues in mute motion and wide-yearning jaws;
And I guess'd that those horrors were meant to tell o'er
The tale of their woes; but the silence told more
That writhed on their tongues; and I knelt on the sod,
And pray'd with one voice to the cloud-stirring God,
For the sad congregation of supplicants there,
That upturn'd to his heaven brute faces of prayer;
And I ceased, and they utter'd a moaning so deep

That I wept for my heart-ease-but they could not weep,
And gazed with red eye-balls, all wistfully dry,
At the comfort of tears in a stag's human eye.

Then I motion'd them round, and, to soothe their distress,
I caress'd, and they bent them to meet my caress,
Their necks to my arm, and their heads to my palm,
And with poor grateful eyes suffer'd meekly and calm
Those tokens of kindness, withheld by hard fate
From returns that might chill the warm pity to hate;
So they passively bow'd-save the serpent, that leapt
To my breast like a sister, and pressingly crept
In embrace of my neck, and with close kisses blister'd
My lips in rash love-then drew backward, and glister'd
Her eyes in my face, and loud hissing affright,
Dropt down, and swift started away from my sight!

This sorrow was theirs, but thrice wretched my lot,
Turn'd brute in my soul, though my body was not,
When I fled from the sorrow of womanly faces,
That shrouded their woe in the shade of lone places,
And dash'd off bright tears, 'till their fingers were wet,
And then wiped their lids with long tresses of jet:
But I fled-though they stretch'd out their hands, all entangled
With hair, and blood-stain'd of the breasts they had mangled-
Though they call'd- and perchance but to ask, had I seen
Their loves, or to tell the vile wrongs that had been:
But I staid not to hear, lest the story should hold
Some hell-form of words, some enchantment once told,
Might translate me in flesh to a brute; and I dreaded
To gaze on their charms, lest my faith should be wedded
With some pity-and love in that pity perchance-
To a thing not all lovely; for once at a glance
Methought where one sat I descried a bright wonder
That flow'd like a long silver rivulet under
The long fenny grass, with so lovely a breast,
Could it be a snake-tail made the charm of the rest?

So I roam'd in that circle of horrors, and Fear Walk'd with me, by hills, and in valleys, and near Cluster'd trees for their gloom-not to shelter from heatBut lest a brute-shadow should grow at my feet; And beside that full oft in the sunshiny place, Dark shadows would gather like clouds on its face, In the horrible likeness of demons, (that none Could see, like invisible flames in the sun ;) But grew to one monster that seized on the light, Like the dragon that strangles the moon in the night; Fierce sphinxes, long serpents, and asps of the South; Wild birds of huge beak, and all horrors that drouth Engenders of slime in the land of the pest,

Like shapes without shape, and vile bats of the West,
Bringing Night on their wings; and the bodies wherein
Great Brahma imprisons the spirits of sin,

Many-handed, that blent in one phantom of fight
Like a Titan, and threatfully warr'd with the light;
I have heard the wild shriek that gave signal to close,
When they rush'd on that shadowy Python of foes
That met with sharp beaks and wide-gaping of jaws,
With flappings of wings and fierce grasping of claws,
And whirls of long tails:-I have seen the quick flutter
Of fragments dissever'd-and necks stretch'd to utter
Long screamings of pain,-the swift motion of blows,
And wrestling of arms-to the flight at the close
When the dust of the earth startled upward in rings,
And flew on the whirlwind that follow'd their wings.
Thus they fled--not forgotten-but often to grow
Like fears in my eyes, when I walk'd to and fro
In the shadows, and felt from some beings unseen
The warm touch of kisses, but clean or unclean
I knew not, nor whether the love I had won
Was of heaven or hell-'till one day in the sun,
In its very noon-blaze, I could fancy a thing
Of beauty, but faint as the cloud-mirrors fling
On the gaze of the shepherd that watches the sky,
Half-seen and half-dream'd in the soul of his eye.
And when in my musings I gazed on the stream,
In motionless trances of thought, there would seem
A face like that face, looking upward through mine;
With its eyes full of love, and the dim drowned shine
Of limbs and fair garments, like clouds in that blue
Serene :-there I stood for long hours but to view
Those fond earnest eyes that were ever uplifted
Towards me, and wink'd as the water-weed drifted
Between; but the fish knew that presence, and plied
Their long curvy tails, and swift darted aside.

There I gazed for lost time, and forgot all the things
That once had been wonders-the fishes with wings,
And the glimmer of magnified eyes that look'd up
From the glooms of the bottom like pearls in a cup,
And the huge endless serpent of silvery gleam,
Slow winding along like a tide in the stream.
Some maid of the waters, some Naiad, methought
Held me dear in the pearl of her eye-and I brought
My wish to that fancy; and often I dash'd
My limbs in the water, and suddenly splash'd
The cool drops around me, yet clung to the brink,
Chill'd by watery fears, how that Beauty might sink
With my life in her arms to her garden, and bind me
With its long tangled grasses, or cruelly wind me

In some eddy to hum out my life in her ear
Like a spider-caught bee-and in aid of that fear
Came the tardy remembrance-Oh falsest of men!
Why was not that beauty remember'd till then?
My love, my safe love, whose glad life would have run
Into mine-like a drop-that our fate might be one,
That now, even now,-may-be,-clasp'd in a dream
That form which I gave to some jilt of the stream,
And gazed with fond eyes that her tears tried to smother
On a mock of those eyes that I gave to another!
Then I rose from the stream, but the eyes of my mind,
Still full of the tempter, kept gazing behind
On her crystalline face, while I painfully leapt

To the bank, and shook off the curst waters, and wept
With my brow in the reeds; and the reeds to my ear
Bow'd, bent by no wind, and in whispers of fear,
Growing small with large secrets, foretold me of one
That loved me-but oh to fly from her, and shun
Her love like a pest-though her love was as true
To mine as her stream to the heavenly blue;
For why should I love her with love that would bring
All misfortune, like Hate, on so joyous a thing?
Because of her rival-even her whose witch-face

I had slighted, and therefore was doom'd in that place
To roam, and had roam'd, where all horrors grew rank,
Nine days ere I wept with my brow on that bank ;
Her name be not named, but her spite would not fail
To our love like a blight; and they told me the tale
Of Scylla, and Picus, imprison'd to speak

His shrill-screaming woe through a woodpecker's beak.
Then they ceased-I had heard as the voice of my star
That told me the truth of my fortunes-thus far
I had read of my sorrow, and lay in the hush
Of deep meditation,-when lo! a light crush
Of the reeds, and I turn'd and look'd round in the night
Of new sunshine, and saw, as I sipp'd of the light
Narrow-winking, the realized nymph of the stream
Rising up from the wave with the bend and the gleam
Of a fountain, and o'er her white arms she kept throwing
Bright torrents of hair that went flowing and flowing
In falls to her feet, and the blue waters roll'd
Down her limbs like a garment, in many a fold,
Sun-spangled, gold-broider'd, and fled far behind
Like an infinite train. So she came and reclined
In the reeds, and I hunger'd to see her unseal
The buds of her eyes that would ope and reveal
The blue that was in them; and they ope'd and she raised
Two orbs of pure crystal, and timidly gazed

With her eyes on my eyes; but their colour and shine
Was of that which they look'd on, and mostly of mine-
For she loved me-except when she blush'd, and they sank
Shame-humbled to number the stones on the bank,
Or her play-idle fingers, while lisping she told me
How she put on her veil, and in love to behold me
Would wing through the sun till she fainted away
Like a mist, and then flew to her waters and lay
In love-patience long hours, and sore dazzled her eyes
In watching for mine 'gainst the midsummer skies.
But now they were heal'd--O my heart, it still dances
When I think of the charm of her changeable glances,
And my image how small when it sank in the deep
Of her eyes where her soul was-Alas! now they weep,

And none knoweth where. In what stream do her eyes
Shed invisible tears? Who beholds where her sighs
Flow in eddies, or sees the ascent of the leaf

She has pluck'd with her tresses? Who listens her grief
Like a far fall of waters, or hears where her feet
Grow emphatic among the loose pebbles and beat
Them together? Ah! surely her flowers float adown
To the sea unaccepted, and little ones drown

For need of her mercy-even he whose twin-brother
Will miss him for ever; and the sorrowful mother
Imploreth in vain for his body to kiss

And cling to, all dripping and cold as it is,
Because that soft pity is lost in hard pain!

We loved-how we loved!-for I thought not again

Of the woes that were whisper'd like fears in that place

If I gave me to beauty. Her face was the face

Far away, and her eyes were the eyes that were drown'd

For my absence, and her arms were the arms that sought round
And clasp'd me to nought, for I gazed and became
Only true to my falsehood, and had but one name
For two loves, and call'd ever on Ægle, sweet maid
Of the sky-loving waters-and was not afraid
Of the sight of her skin-for it never could be
Her beauty and love were misfortunes to me!

Thus our bliss had endured for a time-shorten'd space,
Like a day made of three, and the smile of her face
Had been with me for joy,—when she told me indeed
Her love was self-task'd with a work that would need
Some short hours, for in truth 'twas the veriest pity
Our love should not last, and then sang me a ditty,
Of one with warm lips that should love her and love her
When suns were burnt dim and long ages past over.
So she fled with her voice, and I patiently nested
My limbs in the reeds, in still quiet, and rested
Till my thoughts grew extinct and I sank in a sleep
Of dreams-but their meaning was hidden too deep
To be read what their woe was-but still it was woe
That was writ on all faces that swam to and fro
In that river of night-and the gaze of their eyes
Was sad-and the bend of their brows-and their cries
Were seen, but I heard not. The warm touch of tears
Travell'd down my cold cheeks, and I shook till my fears
Awaked me, and lo! I was couch'd in a bower,
The growth of long summers rear'd up in an hour!
Then I said, in the fear of my dream, I will fly
From this magic, but could not, because that my eye
Grew love-idle among the rich blooms; and the earth
Held me down with its coolness of touch, and the mirth
Of some bird was above me-who, even in fear,
Would startle the thrush? and methought there drew near
A form as of Egle-but it was not the face

Hope made, and I knew the witch-Queen of that place,
Even Circe the Cruel, that came like a Death
Which I fear'd, and yet fled not, for want of my breath.
There was thought in her face, and her eyes were not raised
From the grass at her foot, but I saw, as I gazed,
Her spite-and her countenance changed with her mind
As she plann'd how to thrall me with beauty, and bind
My soul to her charms,-and her long tresses play'd
From shade into shine and from shine into shade,
Like a day in mid-autumn-first fair, O how fair!
With long snaky locks of the adderblack hair

That clung round her neck-those dark locks that I prize
For the sake of a maid that once loved me with eyes
Of that fathomless hue-but they changed as they roll'd,
And brighten'd, and suddenly blazed into gold

That she comb'd into flames, and the locks that fell down
Turn'd dark as they fell, but I slighted their brown,
Nor loved till I saw the light ringlets shed wild
That Innocence wears when she is but a child;

And her eyes-O I ne'er had been witch'd with their shine,
Had they been any other, my Ægle, than thine!
Then I gave me to magic, and gazed till I madden'd
In the full of their light-but I sadden'd and sadden'd
The deeper I look'd-till I sank on the snow
Of her bosom, a thing made of terror and woe,
And answer'd its throb with the shudder of fears,
And hid my cold eyes from her eyes with my tears,
And strain'd her white arms with the still languid weight
Of a fainting distress. There she sat like the Fate
That is nurse unto Death, and bent over in shame
To hide me from her-the true Ægle-that came
With the words on her lips the false witch had foregiv'n
To make me immortal-for now I was even

At the portals of Death that but waited the hush
Of world-sounds in my ear to cry welcome, and rush
With my soul to the banks of his black-flowing river.
O would it had flown from my body for ever
Ere I listen'd those words, when I felt with a start
The life blood rush back in one throb to my heart,
And saw the pale lips where the rest of that spell
Had perish'd in horror-and heard the farewell

Of that voice that was drown'd in the dash of the stream!
How fain had I follow'd, and plunged with that scream
Into death, but my being indignantly lagg'd
Through the brutaliz'd flesh that I painfully dragg'd
Behind me-O Circe! O mother of Spite!

Speak the last of that curse! and imprison me quite
In the husk of a brute-that no pity may name
The man that I was-that no kindred may claim
The monster I am! Let me utterly be

Brute-buried and Nature's dishonour with me

Uninscribed!-But she listen'd my prayer that was praise
To her malice with smiles, and advised me to gaze
On the river for love-and perchance she would make
In pity a maid without eyes for my sake,

And she left me like Scorn. Then I ask'd of the wave
What monster I was, and it trembled and gave
The true shape of my grief, and I turn'd with my face
From all waters for ever, and fled through that place
Till with horror more strong than all magic I pass'd
Its bounds, and the world was before me at last.

There I wander'd in sorrow, and shunn'd the abodes
Of men, that stood up in the likeness of Gods,
But I saw from afar the warm shine of the sun
On their cities, where man was a million, not one;
And I saw the white smoke of their altars ascending,
That show'd where the hearts of the many were blending,
And the wind in my face brought shrill voices that came
From the trumpets that gather'd whole bands in one fame
As a chorus of man-and they stream'd from the gates
Like a dusky libation pour'd out to the Fates.
But at times there were gentler processions of peace
That I watch'd with my soul in my eyes till their cease,