And quaint Priapus with his company, All came, much wondering how the enwombed rocks Could have brought forth so beautiful a birth; Her love subdued their wonder and their mirth. XI. The herdsmen and the mountain maidens came, Centaurs and Satyrs, and such shapes as haunt For she was beautiful XII. her beauty made The bright world dim, and every thing beside No thought of living spirit could abide, XIII. Which when the lady knew, she took her spindle The clouds and waves and mountains with; and she And with these threads a subtle veil she wove XIV. The deep recesses of her odorous dwelling Were stored with magic treasures — sounds of air, Which had the power all spirits of compelling, Folded in cells of crystal silence there; Such as we hear in youth, and think the feeling XV. And there lay Visions swift, and sweet, and quaint, Some eager to burst forth, some weak and faint It was its work to bear to many a saint Whose heart adores the shrine which holiest is, Even Love's: - and others white, green, grey and black, And of all shapes and each was at her beck. XVI. And odours in a kind of aviary Of ever-blooming Eden-trees she kept, Clipt in a floating net, a love-sick Fairy Had woven from dew-beams while the moon yet slept; As bats at the wired window of a dairy, They beat their vans; and each was an adept, When loosed and missioned, making wings of winds, To stir sweet thoughts or sad, in destined minds. XVII. And liquors clear and sweet, whose healthful might And change eternal death into a night Of glorious dreams or if eyes needs must weep, If men could drink of those clear vials, 'tis said XVIII. Her cave was stored with scrolls of strange device, Which taught the expiations at whose price And which might quench the Earth-consuming rage Of gold and blood — till men should live and move Harmonious as the sacred stars above; XIX. And how all things that seem untameable, - the ocean and the wind, And all their shapes and man's imperial will; And other scrolls whose writings did unbind The inmost lore of Love-let the profane Tremble to ask what secrets they contain. XX. And wondrous works of substances unknown, Carved lamps and chalices, and vials which shone In their own golden beams – each like a flower, Out of whose depth a fire-fly shakes his light Under a cypress in a starless night. XXI. At first she lived alone in this wild home, Or with the wind, or with the speed of fire, Into her mind; such power her mighty Sire Had girt them with, whether to fly or run, Through all the regions which he shines upon. XXII. The Ocean-nymphs and Hamadryades, each a satellite. Of her sweet presence · |