XXIII. "This may not be,” the wizard maid replied; "The fountains where the Naiades bedew "Their shining hair, at length are drained and dried; "The solid oaks forget their strength, and strew "Their latest leaf upon the mountains wide; "The boundless ocean like a drop of dew "Will be consumed the stubborn centre must "Be scattered, like a cloud of summer dust. XXIV. "And ye with them will perish, one by one ;· 66 If I must sigh to think that this shall be, "If I must weep when the surviving Sun "Shall smile on your decay- Oh, ask not me "To love you till your little race is run; "I cannot die as ye must-over me "Your leaves shall glance the streams in which ye dwell "Shall be my paths henceforth, and so - farewell!" XXV. She spoke and wept :—the dark and azure well And every little circlet where they fell Flung to the cavern-roof inconstant spheres And intertangled lines of light : a knell Of sobbing voices came upon her ears From those departing Forms, o'er the serene Of the white streams and of the forest green. XXVI. All day the wizard lady sate aloof, Which the sweet splendour of her smiles could dye XXVII. While on her hearth lay blazing many a piece Each flame of it is as a precious stone Belongs to each and all who gaze upon. XXVIII. This lady never slept, but lay in trance All night within the fountain-as in sleep. Through the green splendour of the water deep XXIX. And when the whirlwinds and the clouds descended Where in a lawn of flowering asphodel XXX. Within the which she lay when the fierce war O'er woods and lawns ; - the serpent heard it flicker In sleep, and dreaming still, he crept afar And when the windless snow descended thicker Than autumn leaves, she watched it as it came Melt on the surface of the level flame. XXXI. She had a Boat, which some say Vulcan wrought But it was found too feeble to be fraught And gave it to this daughter: from a car XXXII. And others say, that, when but three hours old, Stole a strange seed, and wrapt it up in mould, XXXIII. The plant grew strong and green, the snowy flower To its own substance; woven tracery ran Of which Love scooped this boat — and with soft motion XXXIV. This boat she moored upon her fount, and lit A living spirit within all its frame, Breathing the soul of swiftness into it. Couched on the fountain like a panther tame, One of the twain at Evan's feet that sit Or as on Vesta's sceptre a swift flame XXXV. Then by strange art she kneaded fire and snow With liquid love all things together grow Through which the harmony of love can pass; |