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A golden butterfly ; upon whose wings
There must be surely character'd strange things,
For with wide eye lie wonders, and smiles oft.

To mortal steps, before thou canst be ta'en
From every wasting sigh, from every pain,
Into the gentle bosom of thy love.
Why it is thus, one knows in heaven above :
But, a poor Naiad, I guess noi. Farewell!
I have a ditty for my hollow cell..


Lightly this little herald flew aloft,
Follow'd by glad Endymion's clasped hands :
Onward it flies. From languor's sullen bands
His limbs are loosed, and cager, on he bies
Dazzled to trace it in the sunny skies.
It seem'd he flew, the way so easy was;
And like a new-born spirit did he pass
Through the green evening quiet in the sun,
O'er many a heath, through many a woodland dun,
Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams
The summer time away.

Onc track unseams
A wooded cleft, and, far away, the blue
Of ocean fades upon him; then, anew,
He sinks adown a solitary glen,
Where there was never sound of mortal men,
Saving, perhaps, some snow-light cadences
Melting to silence, when upon the breeze
Some boly bark let forth an anthem sweet,
To cheer itself to Delphi. Still his feet
Went swift beneath the merry-winged guide,
Until it reached a splashing fountain's side
That, near a cavern's mouth, for ever pour'd
Unto the temperate air: then high it soard,
And, downward, suddenly began to dip,
As if, athirst with so much toil, 't would sip
The crystal spout-head: so it did, with touch
Most delicate, as though afraid to smutch
Even with mealy gold the waters clear.
But, at that very touch, to disappear
So fairy-quick, was strange! Bewildered,
Endymion sought around, and shook cach bed
Of covert flowers in vain; and then he flung
Himself along the grass.

What gentle tongue,
What whisperer disturb’d his gloomy rest?
It was a nymph uprisen to the breast
In the fountain's pebbly margin, and she stood
'Mong lilies, like the youngest of the brood.
To him her dripping hand she softly kist,
And anxiously began to plait and twist
Her ringlets round her fingers, saying: . Youth!
Too long, alas, hast thou starved on the ruth,
The bitterness of love : too long indeed,
Seeing thou art so gentle. Could I weed
Thy soul of care, by heavens, I would offer
All the bright riches of my crystal coffer
To Amphitrite; all my clear-eyed fish,
Golden, or rainbow-sided, or purplish,
Vermilton-tail'd, or fiond with silvery gauze;
Yea, or my veined pebble-floor, that draws
A virgin light to the deep; my grotto-sands
Tawny and gold, oozed slowly from far lands
By my diligent springs ; my level lilies, shells,
My charming rod, my potent river spells;
Yes, every thing, even to the pearly cup
Meander gave mc-for I bubbled up
To fainting creatures in a desert wild.
But woe is me, I am but as a child
To gladden thee; and all I dare to say,
Is, that I pity thee; that on this day
I've been thy guide; that thou must wander far
In other regions, past the scanty bar

Hereat, she vanished from Endymion's gaze, Who brooded o'er the water in amaze: The dashing fount pour'd on, and where its pool Lay, half asleep, in grass and rushes cool, Quick waterflies and gnats were sporting still, And fish were dimpling, as if good por ill Had fallen out that hour. The wanderer, Holding his forehead, to keep off the burr Of smothering fancies, patiently sat down; And, while beneath the evening's sleepy frown Glow-worms began to trim their starry lamps, Thus breath'd he to himself : « Whoso encamps To take a fancied city of delight, () what a wretch is he! and when 't is his, After long toil and travelling, to miss The kernel of his hopes, how more than vile ! Yet, for him there's refresliment even in toil: Another city doth he set about, Free from the smallest pebble-bead of doubt That he will seize on trickling honey-combs : Alas, he finds them dry; and then he foams, And onward to another city speeds. But this is buman life : the war, the deeds, The disappointment, the anxiety, Imagination's struggles, far and nighi, All human; bearing in themselves this good, That they are still the air, the subtle food, To make us feel existence, and to show How quiet death is. Where soil is men grow, Whether to weeds or flowers; but for me, There is no depth to strike in : I can see Nought earthly worth my compassing ; so stand Upon a misty, jutting head of landAlone? No, no; and by the Orphean lute, When mad Eurydice is listening to 't, I'd rather stand upon this misty peak, With not a thing to sigh for, or to seek, But the soft shadow of my thrice-seen love, Than be-I care not what. O meekest dove Of heaven! O Cynthia, ten-limes bright and fair! From thy blue throne, now filling all the air, Glance but one litile beam of temper'd light Into my bosom, that the dreadful might And tyranny of love be somewhat scared ! Yet do not so, sweet queen; one torment spared, Would give a pang to jealous misery, Worse than the torment's self: but rather tie Large wings upon my shoulders, and point out My love's far dwelling. Though the playful rout Of Cupids shun thee, too divine art thou, Too keen in beauty, for thy silver prow Not to have dipp'd in love's most gentle stream. O be propitious, nor severely deem My madness impious; for, by all the stars That tend thy bidding, I do think the bars That kept my spirit in are burst--that I Am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky!


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How beautiful thou art! The world how deep! Will be its high remembrancers : who they?
How tremulous-dazzlingly the wheels sweep

The mighty ones who have made eternal day
Around their axle! Then these gleaming reins, For Greece and England. While astonishment
How lithe! When this thy chariot attains

With deep-drawn sighs was quieting, he went
Ils airy goal, haply some bower veils

Into a marble gallery, passing through
Those twilight eyes ? Those eyes ! — my spirit fails- A mimic temple, so complete and true
Dear goddess, help! or the wide-gaping air

In sacred custom, that he well nigh fear'd
Will gulf me-help!:-At this, with madden'd stare, To search it inwards; whence far off appear'd,
And lifted hands, and trembling lips he stood ; Through a long pillar'd vista, a fair shrine,
Like old Deucalion mountain'd o'er the flood,

And, just beyond, on light tiptoe divine,
Or blind Orion hungry for the morn.

A quiver'd Dian. Stepping awfully,
And, but from the deep cavern there was borne The youth approaclı’d; oft turning his veil'd eye
A voice, he had been froze lo senseless stone;

Down sidelong aisles, and into niches old :
Nor sigh of his, nor plaint, nor passion'd moan And, when more near against the marble cold
Had more been heard. Thus swelld it forth : «Descend, He had touch'd his forehead, he began to thread
Young mountaineer! descend where alleys bend All courts and passages, where silence dead,
Into the sparry hollows of the world!

Roused by his whispering footsteps, murmur'd faint:
Oft hast thou seen bolts of the thunder hurld

And long he traversed to and fro, to acquaint
As from thy threshold; day by day hast been

Himself with every mystery, and awe;
A little lower than the chilly sheen

Till, weary, lie sat down before the maw
Of icy pinnacles, and dipp dst thine arms

Of a wide outlet, fathomless and dim,
Into the deadening ether that still charms

To wild uncertainty and shadows grim.
Their marble being: vow, as deep profound

There, when new wonders ceased to float before,
As those are high, descend! Ile ne'er is crown'd And thoughts of self caine on, how crude and sore
With immortality, who fears to follow

The journey homeward to habitual self!
Where airy voices lead: so through the hollow, A mad-pursuing of the fog-born elf,
The silent mysteries of earth, descend !.

Whose flitting lantern, through rude nettle-briar,

Cheats us into a swamp, into a fire,
He heard but the last words, nor could contend Into the bosom of a hated thing.
One moment in reflection : for he fled
Into the fearful deep, to hide his head
From the clear moon, the trees, and coming madness. What misery most drowningły doth sing

In lone Endymion's ear, now he has caught
'T was far too strange, and wonderful for sadness ; The goal of consciousness ? Ah, 't is the thought,
Sharpening, by degrees, his appetite

The deadly feel of solitude: for lo !
To dive into the deepest. Dark, nor light,

lle cannot see the heavens, nor the flow
The region; nor bright, nor sombre wholly,

Of rivers, nor hill-llowers kunning wild
But mingled up; a gleaming melancholy;

In pink and purple chequer, nor, up-piled,
A dusky empire and its diadems;

The cloudy rack slow journeying in the west,
One faint eternal eventide of gems.

Like herded elephants ; nor felt, nor prest
Ay, millions sparkled on a vein of gold,

Cool grass, nor tasted the fresh slumberous air;
Along whose track the prince quick footsteps told, But far from such companionship to wear
With all its lines abrupt and angular :

An unknown time, surcharged with grief, away,
Out-shooting sometimes, like a meteor-star,

Was now his lot. And must he patient stay,
Through a vast antre; then the metal woof,

Tracing fantastic figures with his spear?
Like Vulcan's rainbow, with some monstrous roof • No!» exclaim'd he, « why should I tarry here?.
Curves hugely: now, far in the deep abyss,

No! loudly echoed times innumerable.
It seems an angry lightning, and doth hiss

At which he straightway started, and 'gan tell
Fancy into belief: anon it leads

His paces back into the temple's chief;
Through winding passages, where sameness breeds Warming and glowing strong in the belief
Vexing conceptions of some sudden change;

Of help from Dian: so that when again
Whether to silver grots, or giant range

He caught her airy form, thus did he plain,
Of sapphire columns, or fantastic bridge

Moving more near the while. • O Haunter chaste
Athwart a flood of crystal. On a ridge

Of river sides, and woods, and heathy waste,
Now fareth he, that o'er the vast beneath

Where with thy silver bow and arrows keen
Towers like an ocean-cliff, and whence he seeth Art thou now forested? O woodland Queen,
A hundred waterfalls, whose voices come

What smoothest air thy smoother forehead woos?
But as the murmuring surge. Chilly and numb Where dost thou listen to the wide halloos
His bosom grew,
when first he, far away,

Of thy disparted nymphs? Through what dark free
Descried an orbed diamond, set to fray

Glimmers thy crescent? Wheresoe'er it be,
Old Darkness from his throne : 't was like the sun 'T is in the breath of heaven; thou dost taste
Uprisen o'er chaos: and with such a stun

Freedom as none can taste it, nor dost waste
Came the amazement, that, absorb’d in it,

Thy loveliness in dismal elements;
He saw not fiercer wonders--past the wit

But, finding in our green carth sweet contents,
Of any spirit to fell, but one of those

There livest blissfully. Ah, if to the
Who, when this planet's sphering time doth close, It feels Elysian, how rich to me,

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An exiled mortal, sounds its pleasant name!

Brushing, awaken'd: then the sounds again
Within my breast there lives a choking flame- Went noiseless as a passing noontide rain
O let me cool it among the zeplıyr-boughs!

Over a bower, where little space he stood;
A homeward fever parches up my tongue-

For as the sunset peeps into a wood, O let me slake it at the running springs !

So saw he panting light, and towards it went Upon my ear a noisy nothing rings

Through winding alleys; and lo, wonderment! O let me once more hear the linnet's note!

Upon soft verdure saw, one here, one there,
Before mine eyes thick films and shadows float- Cupids a slumbering on their pinions fair.
O let me 'noint them with the heaven's light!
Dost thou now lave thy feet and ankles white ?

After a thousand makes overgone,
O think how sweet to me the freshening sluice!

At last, with sudden step, he came upon
Dost thou now please thy thirst withi berry-juice?
O think how this dry palate would rejoice!

A chamber, myrtle-walld, embower'd high,
If in soft slumber thou dost hear my voice,

Full of light, incensc, tender minstrelsy, O think how I should love a bed of flowers !

And more of beautiful and strange beside :

For on a silken couch of rosy pride,
Young goddess! let me see my native bowers !
Deliver me from this rapacious deep!»

In midst of all, there lay a sleeping youth

Of fondest beauty; fonder, in fair sooth, Thus ending loudly, as he would o'erleap

Than sighs could fathom, or conteniment reach: flis destiny, alert he stood : but when

And coverlids gold-tinted like the peach, Obstinate silence came heavily again,

Or ripe October's faded marigolds, Feeling about for its old couch of space

Fell sleek about him in a thousand foldsAnd airy cradle, lowly bow'd his face,

Not hiding up an Apollonian curve D.:sponding, o'er the marble floor's cold thrill. Of neck and shoulder, nor the teuting swerve But 't was not long; for, sweeter than the rill

Of knee from knee, nor ankles pointing light; To its old channel, or a swollen tide

But rather, giving them to the fill'd sight To margin sallows, were the leaves he spied,

Officiously. Sideway his face reposed And flowers, and wreaths, and ready myrtle crowns

On one white arm, and tenderly unclosed, Up heaping through the slab: refreshment drowns By tenderest pressure, a faint damask mouth Itself, and strives its own delights to hide

To slumbery pout; just as the morning south Nor in one spot alone; the floral pride

Disparts a dew-lipp'd rose. Above his head, In a long whispering birth enchanted grew

Four lily stalks did their while honours wed Before his footsteps; as when heaved anew

To make a coronal; and round him grew Old ocean rolls a lengthen'd wave to the shore,

All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, Down whose green back the short-lived foam, all hoar, Together intertwined and tramelld fresh : Bursts gradual, with a wayward indolence.

The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh,

Shading its Ethiop berries ; and woodbine, Increasing still in heart, and pleasant sense, Of velvet leaves and bugle-blooms divine; Upon his fairy journey on he hastes ;

Convolvulus in streaked vases flush; So anxious for the end, he scarcely wastes

The creeper, mellowing for an autumn blush ; One moment with his hand among the sweets:

And virgin's bower, trailing airily; Onward he goes-he stops--his bosom bcats

With others of the sisterhood. Hard by,
As plainly in his ear, as the faint charm

Stood serene Cupids watching silently.
Of which the throbs were born. This still aların, One, kneeling to a lyre, touch'd the strings,
This sleepy music, forced bim walk tiptoe:

Muftling to death the pathos with his wings;
For it came more softly than the east could blow And, ever and anon, uprose to look
Arion's magic to the Atlantic isles ;

At the youth's slumber; wbile another took
Or than the west, made jealous by the smiles

A willow bough, distilling odorous dew, Of throned Apollo, could breathe back the lyre And shook it on his hair; another flew To seas lonian and Tyrian.

In through the woven roof, and fluttering-wise

Rain'd violets upou his sleeping eyes.
O did he ever live, that lonely man,
Who loved—and music slew not? "T is thc pest
Of love, that fairest joys give most uprest;

At these enchantments, and yet many more, That things of delicate and tenderest worth

The breathless Latmian wonder'd o'er and o'er; Are swallow'd all, and made a seared dearth,

Until impatient in embarrassment, By one consuming flame: it doch immerse

He forthright passid, and lightly treading went And suffocate true blessings in a curse.

To that same feather'd lyrist, who straightway, Half-happy, by comparisou of bliss,

Smiling, thus whisper'd : . Though from upper day Is miserable. 'T was even so with ibis

Thou art a wanderer, and thy presence here Dew-dropping melody, in the Carian's car;

Might seem unholy, be of happy cheer! First heaven, then hell, and then forgotten clear,

For 't is the nicest touch of human honour, Vanishi'd in elemental passion.

When some ethereal and high-favouring donor

Presents immortal bowers to mortal sense; And down some swart abysm he had gone,

As now 't is done to thee, Endymion. Hence Had not a heavenly guide benignant led

Was I in no wise startled. So recline
To where thick myrtle branches, 'gainst his head Upon these living tlowers. Here is wine,



Alive with sparkles-never, I aver,

Rubbing their sleepy eyes with lazy wrisis,
Since Ariadne was a vintager,

And doubling over head their little fists
So cool a purple: taste these juicy pears,

In backward yawns. But all were soon alive :
Sent me by sad Vertumnus, when his fears

For as delicious wine doth, sparkling, dive
Were high about Pomona : here is cream,

In nectar'd clouds and curls through water fair,
Deepening to richness from a snowy gleam;

So from the arbour roof down swellid an air
Sweeter than that nurse Amalthea skimm'd

Odorous and enlivening; making all
For the boy Jupiter : and here, undimm'd

To laugh, and play, and sing, and loudly call
By any touch, a bunch of blooming plums

For their sweet queen : when lo! the wreathed

Ready to melt between an infant's gums :

Disparted, and far upward could be seen
And here is manna pick'd from Syrian trees,

Blue heaven, and a silver car, air-borne,
In starlight, by the three Hesperides.

Whose silent wheels, fresh wet from clouds of morn,
Feast on, and meanwhile I will let thee know

Spun off a drizzling dew,—which falling chill
Of all these things around us.» He did so,

On soft Adonis' shoulders, made him still
Still brooding o'er the cadence of his lyre;

Nestle and turn uneasily about.
And thus: • I need not any hearing tire

Soon were the white doves plain, with necks stretch'd out,
By telling how the sea-born goddess pined

And silken traces lightend in descent;
For a mortal youth, and how she strove to bind And soon, returning from love's banishment,
Him all in all unto her doting self.

Queen Venus leaning downward open-arm'd:
Who would not be so prison'd? but, fond elf,

Her shadow fell upon his breast, and charm'd
He was content to let her amorous plea

A tumult to his heart, and a new life
Faint through his careless arms; content to see

Into his eyes. Ali, miserable strife,
An unseized heaven dying at his feet;

But for her comforting! unhappy sight,
Content, О fool! to make a cold retreat,

But meeting her blue orbs! Who, who can write
When on the pleasant grass such love, lovelorn,

Of these first minutes? The unchariest muse
Lay sorrowing; when every tear was born

To embracements warm as theirs makes coy excuse.
Of diverse passion; when her lips and eyes
Were closed in sullen moisture, and quick sighs
Came vex'd and pettislı through her nostrils small. O it has ruffled every spirit there,
Hush! no exclaim-yel, justly mightst thou call Saving love's self, who stands superb to share
Curses upon his head.-1 was half glad,

The general gladness : awfully he stands;
But my poor mistress went distract and mad,

A sovereigo quell is in his waving bands;
When the boar lusk d him: so away she flew

No sight can bear the lightning of his bow;
To Jove's high throne, and by her plainings drew His quiver is mysterious, none can know
Immortal tear-drops down the thunderer's beard; What themselves think of it; from forth his eyes
Whereon, it was decreed he should be rear'd

There darts strange light of varied hues and dyes :
Each summer-time to life, Lo! this is he,

A scowl is sometimes on his brow, but who
That same Adonis, safe in the privacy

Look full upon it feel anon the blue
Of this still region all bis winter-sleep.

of his fair eyes rup liquid through their souls.
Ay, sleep; for when our love-sick queen


weep Endymion feels it, and no more controls
Over his waned corse, the tremulous shower

The burning prayer within him; so, bent low,


the wound, and, with a balmy power, He had begun a plaining of his woe.
Medicined death to a lengthen'd drowsiness :

But Venus, bending forward, said : « My child,
The which she fills with visions, and doth dress

Favour this gentle youth; his days are wild
In all this quiet luxury; and hath set

With love-he-but alas ! too well I see
Us young immortals, without any let,

Thou know'st the decpness of his misery.
To watch his slumber through. T is well nigh pass'd, Ah, smile not so, my son: I tell thee true,
Even to a moment's filling up, and fast

That when through heavy hours I used to rue
She scuds with summer breezes, to pant through The endless sleep of this new-born Adon',
The first long kiss, warm firstling, to renew

This stranger ay I pitied. For upon
Embower'd sports in Cytherca's isle.

A dreary morning once I fled away
Look, how those winged listeners all this while Into the breezy clouds, to weep and pray
Stand anxious : see! behold!--This clamant word For this my love: for vexing Mars had teazed
Broke through the careful silence; for they heard Me even to tears: thence, when a little eased,
A rustling noise of leaves, and out there flutter'd Down-looking, vacant, through a hazy wood,
Pigeons and doves : Adonis something multer'd, I saw this youth as he despairing stood :
The while one hand, that erst upon his thigh

Those same dark curls blown vagrant in the wind;
Lay dormant, moved convulsed and gradually

Those same full fringed lids a constant blind
Up to his forehead. Then there was a hum

Over his sullen eyes : I saw him throw
Of sudden voices, echoing, «Come! come!

Himself on wither'd leaves, even as though
Arise! awake! Clear summer has forth walk'd

Death had come sudden; for no jot he moved,
Unto the clover-sward, and she has talk'd

Yet mutter'd wildly. I could hear he loved
Full soothingly to every nested finch:

Some fair immortal, and that his embrace
Rise, Cupids! or we 'll give the blue-bell pinch

Had zoned her through the night. There is no trace
To your dimpled arms. Once more sweet life begin !, Of this in heaven: I have mark'd each cheek,
At this, from every side they hurried in,

And find it is the vainest thing to seek;

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And that of all things 't is kept secretest.
Endymion! one day thou wilt be blest:
So still obey the guiding hand that fends
Thee safely through these wonders for sweet ends.
'T is a concealment needful in extreme;
And if I guess'd not so, the sunny beam
Thou shouldst mount up to with me. Now adieu!
Here must we leave thee.»--At these words


flew The impatient doves, up rose the floating car, Up went the hum celestial. High afar The Latmian saw them minish into nought; And, when all were clear vanish’d, still he caught A vivid lightning from that dreadful bow. When all was darken'd, with Einean throe The earth closed-gave a solitary moanAnd left him once again in twilight lone.

And purblind amid foggy midnight wolds.
But he revives at once : for who beholds
New sudden things, nor casts his mental slougla?
Forth from a rugged arch, in the dusk below,
Came mother Cybele ! alone-alone-
In sombre chariot; dark foldings thrown
About her majesty, and front death-pale,
With turrets crown'd. Four maned lions hale
The sluggish wheels; solemn their toothed maws,
Their surly eyes brow-hidden, heavy paws
Uplifted drowsily, and nervy tails
Cowering their tawny brushes. Silept sails
This shadowy queen athwart, and faints away
In another gloomy arch.

Wherefore delay, Young traveller, in such a mournful place? Art thou wayworn, or canst not further trace The diamond path ? And does it indeed end Abrupt in middle air? Yet earthward bend Thy forehead, and to Jupiter cloud-borne Call ardently! He was indeed wayworn; Abrupt, in middle air, leis way was lost; To cloud-borne Jove he bowed, and there crost Towards him a large eagle, 't wixt whose wings, Without one impious word, himself he flings, Committed to the darkness and the gloom : Down, down, uncertain to what pleasant doom, Swift as a fathoming plummet down he fell Through unknown things; till exhaled asphodel, And rose, with spicy fannings interbreathed, Came swelling forth where little caves were wreathed So thick with leaves and mosses, that they seem'd Large honey-combs of green, and freshly teem'd With airs delicious. In the greenest nook The eagle landed him, and farewell took.

He did not rave, he did not stare aghast,
For all those visions were o'ergone, and past,
And he in loneliness: he felt assured
Of happy times, when all he had endured
Would seem a feather to the mighty prize.
So, with unusual gladness, on he hics
Through caves, and palaces of mottled

Gold dome, and crystal wall, and turquois floor,
Black polislı'd porticos of awful shade,
And, at the last, a diamond balustrade,
Leading afar past wild magnificence,
Spiral through ruggedest loop-holes, and thence
Stretching across a void, then guiding o'er
Enormous chasms, where, all foam and roar,
Streams subterranean teaze their granite beds ;
Then heighten'd just above the silvery heads
Of a thousand fountains, so that he could dash
The waters with his spear; but at the splash,
Done heedlessly, those spouting columns rose
Sudden a poplar's height, and 'gan lo enclose
His diamond path with fretwork streaming round
Alive, and dazzling cool, and with a sound,
Haply, like dolphin tumults, when sweet shells
Welcome the float of Thetis. Long he dwells
On this delight; for, every minute's space,
The streams with changed magic interlace:
Sometimes like delicatest lattices,
Cover'd with crystal vines; then weeping trees,
Moving about as in a gentle wind,
Which, in a wink, to watery yauze refined,
Pour'd into shapes of curtain'd canopies,
Spangled, and rich with liquid broideries
Of flowers, peacocks, swans, and naiads fair.
Swifter than ligbining went these wonders rare;
And then the water, into stubborn streams
Collecting, mimick'd the wrought oaken beams,
Pillars, and frieze, and high fantastic roof,
Of those dusk places in times far aloof
Cathedrals call'd. He bade a loth farewell
To these founts Protean, passing gulf, and dell,
And torrent, and ten thousand jutting shapes,
Half seen through deepest gloom, and grisly gapes,
Blackening on every side, and overhead
A vaulted dome like Heaven's, far bespread
With starlight gems : aye, all so huge and strange,
The solitary felt a hurried change
Working within him into something dreary,-
Vex'd like a morning eagle, lost, and weary,

It was a jasmine bower, all bestrown
With golden moss.
His every sense had

Ethereal for pleasure; 'bove his head
Flew a delight balf-graspable; his tread
Was Hesperean; to his capable ears
Silence was music from the holy spheres;
A dewy luxury was in his eyes;
The little flowers felt his pleasant sighis
And stirr'd them faintly. Verdant cave aud cell
He wanderd through, oft wondering af such swell
Of sudden exaltation : but, « Alas!,
Said he, u will all this guslı of feeling pass
Away in solitude? And must they wane,
Like melodies upon a sandy plain,
Without an echo? Then shall I be left
So sad, so melancholy, so bereft!
Yet still I feel immortal! O my love,
My breath of life, where art thou? ILigh above,
Dancing before the morning gates of heaven?
Or keeping watch among those starry seven,
Old Atlas' children? Art a maid of the waters,
One of shell-winding Triton's bright-hair'd daughters ?
Or art, impossible! a nymph of Dian's,
Weaving a coronal of tender scions
For very idleness? Where'er thou art,
Methinks it now is at my will to start
Into thine arms; to scare Aurora's train,
And spatch thee from the morning; o'er the main

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