Endymion: Book III

There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men     With most prevailing tinsel: who unpen     Their baaing vanities, to browse away     The comfortable green and juicy hay     From human pastures; or, O torturing fact!     Who, through an idiot blink, will see unpack'd     Fire-branded foxes to sear up and singe     Our gold and ripe-ear'd hopes. With not one tinge     Of sanctuary splendour, not a sight     Able to face an owl's, they still are dight     By the blear-eyed nations in empurpled vests,     And crowns, and turbans. With unladen breasts,     Save of blown self-applause, they proudly mount     To their spirit's perch, their being's high account,     Their tiptop nothings, their dull skies, their thrones     Amid the fierce intoxicating tones     Of trumpets, shoutings, and belabour'd drums,     And sudden cannon. Ah! how all this hums,     In wakeful ears, like uproar past and gone     Like thunder clouds that spake to Babylon,     And set those old Chaldeans to their tasks.     Are then regalities all gilded masks?     No, there are throned seats unscalable     But by a patient wing, a constant spell,     Or by ethereal things that, unconfin'd,     Can make a ladder of the eternal wind,     And poise about in cloudy thunder-tents     To watch the abysm-birth of elements.     Aye, 'bove the withering of old-lipp'd Fate     A thousand Powers keep religious state,     In water, fiery realm, and airy bourne;     And, silent as a consecrated urn,     Hold sphery sessions for a season due.     Yet few of these far majesties, ah, few!     Have bared their operations to this globe     Few, who with gorgeous pageantry enrobe     Our piece of heaven whose benevolence     Shakes hand with our own Ceres; every sense     Filling with spiritual sweets to plenitude,     As bees gorge full their cells. And, by the feud     'Twixt Nothing and Creation, I here swear,     Eterne Apollo! that thy Sister fair     Is of all these the gentlier-mightiest.     When thy gold breath is misting in the west,     She unobserved steals unto her throne,     And there she sits most meek and most alone;     As if she had not pomp subservient;     As if thine eye, high Poet! was not bent     Towards her with the Muses in thine heart;     As if the ministring stars kept not apart,     Waiting for silver-footed messages.     O Moon! the oldest shades 'mong oldest trees     Feel palpitations when thou lookest in:     O Moon! old boughs lisp forth a holier din     The while they feel thine airy fellowship.     Thou dost bless every where, with silver lip     Kissing dead things to life. The sleeping kine,     Couched in thy brightness, dream of fields divine:     Innumerable mountains rise, and rise,     Ambitious for the hallowing of thine eyes;     And yet thy benediction passeth not     One obscure hiding-place, one little spot     Where pleasure may be sent: the nested wren     Has thy fair face within its tranquil ken,     And from beneath a sheltering ivy leaf     Takes glimpses of thee; thou art a relief     To the poor patient oyster, where it sleeps     Within its pearly house. The mighty deeps,     The monstrous sea is thine the myriad sea!     O Moon! far-spooming Ocean bows to thee,     And Tellus feels his forehead's cumbrous load.     Cynthia! where art thou now? What far abode     Of green or silvery bower doth enshrine     Such utmost beauty? Alas, thou dost pine     For one as sorrowful: thy cheek is pale     For one whose cheek is pale: thou dost bewail     His tears, who weeps for thee. Where dost thou sigh?     Ah! surely that light peeps from Vesper's eye,     Or what a thing is love! 'Tis She, but lo!     How chang'd, how full of ache, how gone in woe!     She dies at the thinnest cloud; her loveliness     Is wan on Neptune's blue: yet there's a stress     Of love-spangles, just off yon cape of trees,     Dancing upon the waves, as if to please     The curly foam with amorous influence.     O, not so idle: for down-glancing thence     She fathoms eddies, and runs wild about     O'erwhelming water-courses; scaring out     The thorny sharks from hiding-holes, and fright'ning     Their savage eyes with unaccustomed lightning.     Where will the splendor be content to reach?     O love! how potent hast thou been to teach     Strange journeyings! Wherever beauty dwells,     In gulf or aerie, mountains or deep dells,     In light, in gloom, in star or blazing sun,     Thou pointest out the way, and straight 'tis won.     Amid his toil thou gav'st Leander breath;     Thou leddest Orpheus through the gleams of death;     Thou madest Pluto bear thin element;     And now, O winged Chieftain! thou hast sent     A moon-beam to the deep, deep water-world,     To find Endymion.     On gold sand impearl'd     With lily shells, and pebbles milky white,     Poor Cynthia greeted him, and sooth'd her light     Against his pallid face: he felt the charm     To breathlessness, and suddenly a warm     Of his heart's blood: 'twas very sweet; he stay'd     His wandering steps, and half-entranced laid     His head upon a tuft of straggling weeds,     To taste the gentle moon, and freshening beads,     Lashed from the crystal roof by fishes' tails.     And so he kept, until the rosy veils     Mantling the east, by Aurora's peering hand     Were lifted from the water's breast, and fann'd     Into sweet air; and sober'd morning came     Meekly through billows: when like taper-flame     Left sudden by a dallying breath of air,     He rose in silence, and once more 'gan fare     Along his fated way.     Far had he roam'd,     With nothing save the hollow vast, that foam'd     Above, around, and at his feet; save things     More dead than Morpheus' imaginings:     Old rusted anchors, helmets, breast-plates large     Of gone sea-warriors; brazen beaks and targe;     Rudders that for a hundred years had lost     The sway of human hand; gold vase emboss'd     With long-forgotten story, and wherein     No reveller had ever dipp'd a chin     But those of Saturn's vintage; mouldering scrolls,     Writ in the tongue of heaven, by those souls     Who first were on the earth; and sculptures rude     In ponderous stone, developing the mood     Of ancient Nox; then skeletons of man,     Of beast, behemoth, and leviathan,     And elephant, and eagle, and huge jaw     Of nameless monster. A cold leaden awe     These secrets struck into him; and unless     Dian had chaced away that heaviness,     He might have died: but now, with cheered feel,     He onward kept; wooing these thoughts to steal     About the labyrinth in his soul of love.     "What is there in thee, Moon! that thou shouldst move     My heart so potently? When yet a child     I oft have dried my tears when thou hast smil'd.     Thou seem'dst my sister: hand in hand we went     From eve to morn across the firmament.     No apples would I gather from the tree,     Till thou hadst cool'd their cheeks deliciously:     No tumbling water ever spake romance,     But when my eyes with thine thereon could dance:     No woods were green enough, no bower divine,     Until thou liftedst up thine eyelids fine:     In sowing time ne'er would I dibble take,     Or drop a seed, till thou wast wide awake;     And, in the summer tide of blossoming,     No one but thee hath heard me blithly sing     And mesh my dewy flowers all the night.     No melody was like a passing spright     If it went not to solemnize thy reign.     Yes, in my boyhood, every joy and pain     By thee were fashion'd to the self-same end;     And as I grew in years, still didst thou blend     With all my ardours: thou wast the deep glen;     Thou wast the mountain-top the sage's pen     The poet's harp the voice of friends the sun;     Thou wast the river thou wast glory won;     Thou wast my clarion's blast thou wast my steed     My goblet full of wine my topmost deed:     Thou wast the charm of women, lovely Moon!     O what a wild and harmonized tune     My spirit struck from all the beautiful!     On some bright essence could I lean, and lull     Myself to immortality: I prest     Nature's soft pillow in a wakeful rest.     But, gentle Orb! there came a nearer bliss     My strange love came Felicity's abyss!     She came, and thou didst fade, and fade away     Yet not entirely; no, thy starry sway     Has been an under-passion to this hour.     Now I begin to feel thine orby power     Is coming fresh upon me: O be kind,     Keep back thine influence, and do not blind     My sovereign vision. Dearest love, forgive     That I can think away from thee and live!     Pardon me, airy planet, that I prize     One thought beyond thine argent luxuries!     How far beyond!" At this a surpris'd start     Frosted the springing verdure of his heart;     For as he lifted up his eyes to swear     How his own goddess was past all things fair,     He saw far in the concave green of the sea     An old man sitting calm and peacefully.     Upon a weeded rock this old man sat,     And his white hair was awful, and a mat     Of weeds were cold beneath his cold thin feet;     And, ample as the largest winding-sheet,     A cloak of blue wrapp'd up his aged bones,     O'erwrought with symbols by the deepest groans     Of ambitious magic: every ocean-form     Was woven in with black distinctness; storm,     And calm, and whispering, and hideous roar     Were emblem'd in the woof; with every shape     That skims, or dives, or sleeps, 'twixt cape and cape.     The gulphing whale was like a dot in the spell,     Yet look upon it, and 'twould size and swell     To its huge self; and the minutest fish     Would pass the very hardest gazer's wish,     And show his little eye's anatomy.     Then there was pictur'd the regality     Of Neptune; and the sea nymphs round his state,     In beauteous vassalage, look up and wait.     Beside this old man lay a pearly wand,     And in his lap a book, the which he conn'd     So stedfastly, that the new denizen     Had time to keep him in amazed ken,     To mark these shadowings, and stand in awe.     The old man rais'd his hoary head and saw     The wilder'd stranger seeming not to see,     His features were so lifeless. Suddenly     He woke as from a trance; his snow-white brows     Went arching up, and like two magic ploughs     Furrow'd deep wrinkles in his forehead large,     Which kept as fixedly as rocky marge,     Till round his wither'd lips had gone a smile.     Then up he rose, like one whose tedious toil     Had watch'd for years in forlorn hermitage,     Who had not from mid-life to utmost age     Eas'd in one accent his o'er-burden'd soul,     Even to the trees. He rose: he grasp'd his stole,     With convuls'd clenches waving it abroad,     And in a voice of solemn joy, that aw'd     Echo into oblivion, he said:     "Thou art the man! Now shall I lay my head     In peace upon my watery pillow: now     Sleep will come smoothly to my weary brow.     O Jove! I shall be young again, be young!     O shell-borne Neptune, I am pierc'd and stung     With new-born life! What shall I do? Where go,     When I have cast this serpent-skin of woe?     I'll swim to the syrens, and one moment listen     Their melodies, and see their long hair glisten;     Anon upon that giant's arm I'll be,     That writhes about the roots of Sicily:     To northern seas I'll in a twinkling sail,     And mount upon the snortings of a whale     To some black cloud; thence down I'll madly sweep     On forked lightning, to the deepest deep,     Where through some sucking pool I will be hurl'd     With rapture to the other side of the world!     O, I am full of gladness! Sisters three,     I bow full hearted to your old decree!     Yes, every god be thank'd, and power benign,     For I no more shall wither, droop, and pine.     Thou art the man!" Endymion started back     Dismay'd; and, like a wretch from whom the rack     Tortures hot breath, and speech of agony,     Mutter'd: "What lonely death am I to die     In this cold region? Will he let me freeze,     And float my brittle limbs o'er polar seas?     Or will he touch me with his searing hand,     And leave a black memorial on the sand?     Or tear me piece-meal with a bony saw,     And keep me as a chosen food to draw     His magian fish through hated fire and flame?     O misery of hell! resistless, tame,     Am I to be burnt up? No, I will shout,     Until the gods through heaven's blue look out!     O Tartarus! but some few days agone     Her soft arms were entwining me, and on     Her voice I hung like fruit among green leaves:     Her lips were all my own, and ah, ripe sheaves     Of happiness! ye on the stubble droop,     But never may be garner'd. I must stoop     My head, and kiss death's foot. Love! love, farewel!     Is there no hope from thee? This horrid spell     Would melt at thy sweet breath. By Dian's hind     Feeding from her white fingers, on the wind     I see thy streaming hair! and now, by Pan,     I care not for this old mysterious man!"     He spake, and walking to that aged form,     Look'd high defiance. Lo! his heart 'gan warm     With pity, for the grey-hair'd creature wept.     Had he then wrong'd a heart where sorrow kept?     Had he, though blindly contumelious, brought     Rheum to kind eyes, a sting to human thought,     Convulsion to a mouth of many years?     He had in truth; and he was ripe for tears.     The penitent shower fell, as down he knelt     Before that care-worn sage, who trembling felt     About his large dark locks, and faultering spake:     "Arise, good youth, for sacred Phoebus' sake!     I know thine inmost bosom, and I feel     A very brother's yearning for thee steal     Into mine own: for why? thou openest     The prison gates that have so long opprest     My weary watching. Though thou know'st it not,     Thou art commission'd to this fated spot     For great enfranchisement. O weep no more;     I am a friend to love, to loves of yore:     Aye, hadst thou never lov'd an unknown power     I had been grieving at this joyous hour     But even now most miserable old,     I saw thee, and my blood no longer cold     Gave mighty pulses: in this tottering case     Grew a new heart, which at this moment plays     As dancingly as thine. Be not afraid,     For thou shalt hear this secret all display'd,     Now as we speed towards our joyous task."     So saying, this young soul in age's mask     Went forward with the Carian side by side:     Resuming quickly thus; while ocean's tide     Hung swollen at their backs, and jewel'd sands     Took silently their foot-prints. "My soul stands     Now past the midway from mortality,     And so I can prepare without a sigh     To tell thee briefly all my joy and pain.     I was a fisher once, upon this main,     And my boat danc'd in every creek and bay;     Rough billows were my home by night and day,     The sea-gulls not more constant; for I had     No housing from the storm and tempests mad,     But hollow rocks, and they were palaces     Of silent happiness, of slumberous ease:     Long years of misery have told me so.     Aye, thus it was one thousand years ago.     One thousand years! Is it then possible     To look so plainly through them? to dispel     A thousand years with backward glance sublime?     To breathe away as 'twere all scummy slime     From off a crystal pool, to see its deep,     And one's own image from the bottom peep?     Yes: now I am no longer wretched thrall,     My long captivity and moanings all     Are but a slime, a thin-pervading scum,     The which I breathe away, and thronging come     Like things of yesterday my youthful pleasures.     "I touch'd no lute, I sang not, trod no measures:     I was a lonely youth on desert shores.     My sports were lonely, 'mid continuous roars,     And craggy isles, and sea-mew's plaintive cry     Plaining discrepant between sea and sky.     Dolphins were still my playmates; shapes unseen     Would let me feel their scales of gold and green,     Nor be my desolation; and, full oft,     When a dread waterspout had rear'd aloft     Its hungry hugeness, seeming ready ripe     To burst with hoarsest thunderings, and wipe     My life away like a vast sponge of fate,     Some friendly monster, pitying my sad state,     Has dived to its foundations, gulph'd it down,     And left me tossing safely. But the crown     Of all my life was utmost quietude:     More did I love to lie in cavern rude,     Keeping in wait whole days for Neptune's voice,     And if it came at last, hark, and rejoice!     There blush'd no summer eve but I would steer     My skiff along green shelving coasts, to hear     The shepherd's pipe come clear from aery steep,     Mingled with ceaseless bleatings of his sheep:     And never was a day of summer shine,     But I beheld its birth upon the brine:     For I would watch all night to see unfold     Heaven's gates, and Aethon snort his morning gold     Wide o'er the swelling streams: and constantly     At brim of day-tide, on some grassy lea,     My nets would be spread out, and I at rest.     The poor folk of the sea-country I blest     With daily boon of fish most delicate:     They knew not whence this bounty, and elate     Would strew sweet flowers on a sterile beach.     "Why was I not contented? Wherefore reach     At things which, but for thee, O Latmian!     Had been my dreary death? Fool! I began     To feel distemper'd longings: to desire     The utmost privilege that ocean's sire     Could grant in benediction: to be free     Of all his kingdom. Long in misery     I wasted, ere in one extremest fit     I plung'd for life or death. To interknit     One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff     Might seem a work of pain; so not enough     Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt,     And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt     Whole days and days in sheer astonishment;     Forgetful utterly of self-intent;     Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow.     Then, like a new fledg'd bird that first doth shew     His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill,     I tried in fear the pinions of my will.     'Twas freedom! and at once I visited     The ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed.     No need to tell thee of them, for I see     That thou hast been a witness it must be     For these I know thou canst not feel a drouth,     By the melancholy corners of that mouth.     So I will in my story straightway pass     To more immediate matter. Woe, alas!     That love should be my bane! Ah, Scylla fair!     Why did poor Glaucus ever ever dare     To sue thee to his heart? Kind stranger-youth!     I lov'd her to the very white of truth,     And she would not conceive it. Timid thing!     She fled me swift as sea-bird on the wing,     Round every isle, and point, and promontory,     From where large Hercules wound up his story     Far as Egyptian Nile. My passion grew     The more, the more I saw her dainty hue     Gleam delicately through the azure clear:     Until 'twas too fierce agony to bear;     And in that agony, across my grief     It flash'd, that Circe might find some relief     Cruel enchantress! So above the water     I rear'd my head, and look'd for Phoebus' daughter.     Aeaea's isle was wondering at the moon:     It seem'd to whirl around me, and a swoon     Left me dead-drifting to that fatal power.     "When I awoke, 'twas in a twilight bower;     Just when the light of morn, with hum of bees,     Stole through its verdurous matting of fresh trees.     How sweet, and sweeter! for I heard a lyre,     And over it a sighing voice expire.     It ceased I caught light footsteps; and anon     The fairest face that morn e'er look'd upon     Push'd through a screen of roses. Starry Jove!     With tears, and smiles, and honey-words she wove     A net whose thraldom was more bliss than all     The range of flower'd Elysium. Thus did fall     The dew of her rich speech: "Ah! Art awake?     O let me hear thee speak, for Cupid's sake!     I am so oppress'd with joy! Why, I have shed     An urn of tears, as though thou wert cold dead;     And now I find thee living, I will pour     From these devoted eyes their silver store,     Until exhausted of the latest drop,     So it will pleasure thee, and force thee stop     Here, that I too may live: but if beyond     Such cool and sorrowful offerings, thou art fond     Of soothing warmth, of dalliance supreme;     If thou art ripe to taste a long love dream;     If smiles, if dimples, tongues for ardour mute,     Hang in thy vision like a tempting fruit,     O let me pluck it for thee." Thus she link'd     Her charming syllables, till indistinct     Their music came to my o'er-sweeten'd soul;     And then she hover'd over me, and stole     So near, that if no nearer it had been     This furrow'd visage thou hadst never seen.     "Young man of Latmos! thus particular     Am I, that thou may'st plainly see how far     This fierce temptation went: and thou may'st not     Exclaim, How then, was Scylla quite forgot?     "Who could resist? Who in this universe?     She did so breathe ambrosia; so immerse     My fine existence in a golden clime.     She took me like a child of suckling time,     And cradled me in roses. Thus condemn'd,     The current of my former life was stemm'd,     And to this arbitrary queen of sense     I bow'd a tranced vassal: nor would thence     Have mov'd, even though Amphion's harp had woo'd     Me back to Scylla o'er the billows rude.     For as Apollo each eve doth devise     A new appareling for western skies;     So every eve, nay every spendthrift hour     Shed balmy consciousness within that bower.     And I was free of haunts umbrageous;     Could wander in the mazy forest-house     Of squirrels, foxes shy, and antler'd deer,     And birds from coverts innermost and drear     Warbling for very joy mellifluous sorrow     To me new born delights!      "Now let me borrow,     For moments few, a temperament as stern     As Pluto's sceptre, that my words not burn     These uttering lips, while I in calm speech tell     How specious heaven was changed to real hell.     "One morn she left me sleeping: half awake     I sought for her smooth arms and lips, to slake     My greedy thirst with nectarous camel-draughts;     But she was gone. Whereat the barbed shafts     Of disappointment stuck in me so sore,     That out I ran and search'd the forest o'er.     Wandering about in pine and cedar gloom     Damp awe assail'd me; for there 'gan to boom     A sound of moan, an agony of sound,     Sepulchral from the distance all around.     Then came a conquering earth-thunder, and rumbled     That fierce complain to silence: while I stumbled     Down a precipitous path, as if impell'd.     I came to a dark valley. Groanings swell'd     Poisonous about my ears, and louder grew,     The nearer I approach'd a flame's gaunt blue,     That glar'd before me through a thorny brake.     This fire, like the eye of gordian snake,     Bewitch'd me towards; and I soon was near     A sight too fearful for the feel of fear:     In thicket hid I curs'd the haggard scene     The banquet of my arms, my arbour queen,     Seated upon an uptorn forest root;     And all around her shapes, wizard and brute,     Laughing, and wailing, groveling, serpenting,     Shewing tooth, tusk, and venom-bag, and sting!     O such deformities! Old Charon's self,     Should he give up awhile his penny pelf,     And take a dream 'mong rushes Stygian,     It could not be so phantasied. Fierce, wan,     And tyrannizing was the lady's look,     As over them a gnarled staff she shook.     Oft-times upon the sudden she laugh'd out,     And from a basket emptied to the rout     Clusters of grapes, the which they raven'd quick     And roar'd for more; with many a hungry lick     About their shaggy jaws. Avenging, slow,     Anon she took a branch of mistletoe,     And emptied on't a black dull-gurgling phial:     Groan'd one and all, as if some piercing trial     Was sharpening for their pitiable bones.     She lifted up the charm: appealing groans     From their poor breasts went sueing to her ear     In vain; remorseless as an infant's bier     She whisk'd against their eyes the sooty oil.     Whereat was heard a noise of painful toil,     Increasing gradual to a tempest rage,     Shrieks, yells, and groans of torture-pilgrimage;     Until their grieved bodies 'gan to bloat     And puff from the tail's end to stifled throat:     Then was appalling silence: then a sight     More wildering than all that hoarse affright;     For the whole herd, as by a whirlwind writhen,     Went through the dismal air like one huge Python     Antagonizing Boreas, and so vanish'd.     Yet there was not a breath of wind: she banish'd     These phantoms with a nod. Lo! from the dark     Came waggish fauns, and nymphs, and satyrs stark,     With dancing and loud revelry, and went     Swifter than centaurs after rapine bent.     Sighing an elephant appear'd and bow'd     Before the fierce witch, speaking thus aloud     In human accent: "Potent goddess! chief     Of pains resistless! make my being brief,     Or let me from this heavy prison fly:     Or give me to the air, or let me die!     I sue not for my happy crown again;     I sue not for my phalanx on the plain;     I sue not for my lone, my widow'd wife;     I sue not for my ruddy drops of life,     My children fair, my lovely girls and boys!     I will forget them; I will pass these joys;     Ask nought so heavenward, so too too high:     Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die,     Or be deliver'd from this cumbrous flesh,     From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh,     And merely given to the cold bleak air.     Have mercy, Goddess! Circe, feel my prayer!"     That curst magician's name fell icy numb     Upon my wild conjecturing: truth had come     Naked and sabre-like against my heart.     I saw a fury whetting a death-dart;     And my slain spirit, overwrought with fright,     Fainted away in that dark lair of night.     Think, my deliverer, how desolate     My waking must have been! disgust, and hate,     And terrors manifold divided me     A spoil amongst them. I prepar'd to flee     Into the dungeon core of that wild wood:     I fled three days when lo! before me stood     Glaring the angry witch. O Dis, even now,     A clammy dew is beading on my brow,     At mere remembering her pale laugh, and curse.     "Ha! ha! Sir Dainty! there must be a nurse     Made of rose leaves and thistledown, express,     To cradle thee my sweet, and lull thee: yes,     I am too flinty-hard for thy nice touch:     My tenderest squeeze is but a giant's clutch.     So, fairy-thing, it shall have lullabies     Unheard of yet; and it shall still its cries     Upon some breast more lily-feminine.     Oh, no it shall not pine, and pine, and pine     More than one pretty, trifling thousand years;     And then 'twere pity, but fate's gentle shears     Cut short its immortality. Sea-flirt!     Young dove of the waters! truly I'll not hurt     One hair of thine: see how I weep and sigh,     That our heart-broken parting is so nigh.     And must we part? Ah, yes, it must be so.     Yet ere thou leavest me in utter woe,     Let me sob over thee my last adieus,     And speak a blessing: Mark me! thou hast thews     Immortal, for thou art of heavenly race:     But such a love is mine, that here I chase     Eternally away from thee all bloom     Of youth, and destine thee towards a tomb.     Hence shalt thou quickly to the watery vast;     And there, ere many days be overpast,     Disabled age shall seize thee; and even then     Thou shalt not go the way of aged men;     But live and wither, cripple and still breathe     Ten hundred years: which gone, I then bequeath     Thy fragile bones to unknown burial.     Adieu, sweet love, adieu!" As shot stars fall,     She fled ere I could groan for mercy. Stung     And poisoned was my spirit: despair sung     A war-song of defiance 'gainst all hell.     A hand was at my shoulder to compel     My sullen steps; another 'fore my eyes     Moved on with pointed finger. In this guise     Enforced, at the last by ocean's foam     I found me; by my fresh, my native home.     Its tempering coolness, to my life akin,     Came salutary as I waded in;     And, with a blind voluptuous rage, I gave     Battle to the swollen billow-ridge, and drave     Large froth before me, while there yet remain'd     Hale strength, nor from my bones all marrow drain'd.     "Young lover, I must weep such hellish spite     With dry cheek who can tell? While thus my might     Proving upon this element, dismay'd,     Upon a dead thing's face my hand I laid;     I look'd 'twas Scylla! Cursed, cursed Circe!     O vulture-witch, hast never heard of mercy?     Could not thy harshest vengeance be content,     But thou must nip this tender innocent     Because I lov'd her? Cold, O cold indeed     Were her fair limbs, and like a common weed     The sea-swell took her hair. Dead as she was     I clung about her waist, nor ceas'd to pass     Fleet as an arrow through unfathom'd brine,     Until there shone a fabric crystalline,     Ribb'd and inlaid with coral, pebble, and pearl.     Headlong I darted; at one eager swirl     Gain'd its bright portal, enter'd, and behold!     'Twas vast, and desolate, and icy-cold;     And all around But wherefore this to thee     Who in few minutes more thyself shalt see?     I left poor Scylla in a niche and fled.     My fever'd parchings up, my scathing dread     Met palsy half way: soon these limbs became     Gaunt, wither'd, sapless, feeble, cramp'd, and lame.     "Now let me pass a cruel, cruel space,     Without one hope, without one faintest trace     Of mitigation, or redeeming bubble     Of colour'd phantasy; for I fear 'twould trouble     Thy brain to loss of reason: and next tell     How a restoring chance came down to quell     One half of the witch in me. On a day,     Sitting upon a rock above the spray,     I saw grow up from the horizon's brink     A gallant vessel: soon she seem'd to sink     Away from me again, as though her course     Had been resum'd in spite of hindering force     So vanish'd: and not long, before arose     Dark clouds, and muttering of winds morose.     Old Eolus would stifle his mad spleen,     But could not: therefore all the billows green     Toss'd up the silver spume against the clouds.     The tempest came: I saw that vessel's shrouds     In perilous bustle; while upon the deck     Stood trembling creatures. I beheld the wreck;     The final gulphing; the poor struggling souls:     I heard their cries amid loud thunder-rolls.     O they had all been sav'd but crazed eld     Annull'd my vigorous cravings: and thus quell'd     And curb'd, think on't, O Latmian! did I sit     Writhing with pity, and a cursing fit     Against that hell-born Circe. The crew had gone,     By one and one, to pale oblivion;     And I was gazing on the surges prone,     With many a scalding tear and many a groan,     When at my feet emerg'd an old man's hand,     Grasping this scroll, and this same slender wand.     I knelt with pain reached out my hand had grasp'd     These treasures touch'd the knuckles they unclasp'd     I caught a finger: but the downward weight     O'erpowered me it sank. Then 'gan abate     The storm, and through chill aguish gloom outburst     The comfortable sun. I was athirst     To search the book, and in the warming air     Parted its dripping leaves with eager care.     Strange matters did it treat of, and drew on     My soul page after page, till well-nigh won     Into forgetfulness; when, stupefied,     I read these words, and read again, and tried     My eyes against the heavens, and read again.     O what a load of misery and pain     Each Atlas-line bore off! a shine of hope     Came gold around me, cheering me to cope     Strenuous with hellish tyranny. Attend!     For thou hast brought their promise to an end.     "In the wide sea there lives a forlorn wretch,     Doom'd with enfeebled carcase to outstretch     His loath'd existence through ten centuries,     And then to die alone. Who can devise     A total opposition? No one. So     One million times ocean must ebb and flow,     And he oppressed. Yet he shall not die,     These things accomplish'd: If he utterly     Scans all the depths of magic, and expounds     The meanings of all motions, shapes, and sounds;     If he explores all forms and substances     Straight homeward to their symbol-essences;     He shall not die. Moreover, and in chief,     He must pursue this task of joy and grief     Most piously; all lovers tempest-tost,     And in the savage overwhelming lost,     He shall deposit side by side, until     Time's creeping shall the dreary space fulfil:     Which done, and all these labours ripened,     A youth, by heavenly power lov'd and led,     Shall stand before him; whom he shall direct     How to consummate all. The youth elect     Must do the thing, or both will be destroy'd."     "Then," cried the young Endymion, overjoy'd,     "We are twin brothers in this destiny!     Say, I intreat thee, what achievement high     Is, in this restless world, for me reserv'd.     What! if from thee my wandering feet had swerv'd,     Had we both perish'd?" "Look!" the sage replied,     "Dost thou not mark a gleaming through the tide,     Of divers brilliances? 'tis the edifice     I told thee of, where lovely Scylla lies;     And where I have enshrined piously     All lovers, whom fell storms have doom'd to die     Throughout my bondage." Thus discoursing, on     They went till unobscur'd the porches shone;     Which hurryingly they gain'd, and enter'd straight.     Sure never since king Neptune held his state     Was seen such wonder underneath the stars.     Turn to some level plain where haughty Mars     Has legion'd all his battle; and behold     How every soldier, with firm foot, doth hold     His even breast: see, many steeled squares,     And rigid ranks of iron whence who dares     One step? Imagine further, line by line,     These warrior thousands on the field supine:     So in that crystal place, in silent rows,     Poor lovers lay at rest from joys and woes.     The stranger from the mountains, breathless, trac'd     Such thousands of shut eyes in order plac'd;     Such ranges of white feet, and patient lips     All ruddy, for here death no blossom nips.     He mark'd their brows and foreheads; saw their hair     Put sleekly on one side with nicest care;     And each one's gentle wrists, with reverence,     Put cross-wise to its heart.      "Let us commence,     Whisper'd the guide, stuttering with joy, even now."     He spake, and, trembling like an aspen-bough,     Began to tear his scroll in pieces small,     Uttering the while some mumblings funeral.     He tore it into pieces small as snow     That drifts unfeather'd when bleak northerns blow;     And having done it, took his dark blue cloak     And bound it round Endymion: then struck     His wand against the empty air times nine.     "What more there is to do, young man, is thine:     But first a little patience; first undo     This tangled thread, and wind it to a clue.     Ah, gentle! 'tis as weak as spider's skein;     And shouldst thou break it What, is it done so clean?     A power overshadows thee! Oh, brave!     The spite of hell is tumbling to its grave.     Here is a shell; 'tis pearly blank to me,     Nor mark'd with any sign or charactery     Canst thou read aught? O read for pity's sake!     Olympus! we are safe! Now, Carian, break     This wand against yon lyre on the pedestal."     'Twas done: and straight with sudden swell and fall     Sweet music breath'd her soul away, and sigh'd     A lullaby to silence. "Youth! now strew     These minced leaves on me, and passing through     Those files of dead, scatter the same around,     And thou wilt see the issue." 'Mid the sound     Of flutes and viols, ravishing his heart,     Endymion from Glaucus stood apart,     And scatter'd in his face some fragments light.     How lightning-swift the change! a youthful wight     Smiling beneath a coral diadem,     Out-sparkling sudden like an upturn'd gem,     Appear'd, and, stepping to a beauteous corse,     Kneel'd down beside it, and with tenderest force     Press'd its cold hand, and wept and Scylla sigh'd!     Endymion, with quick hand, the charm applied     The nymph arose: he left them to their joy,     And onward went upon his high employ,     Showering those powerful fragments on the dead.     And, as he pass'd, each lifted up its head,     As doth a flower at Apollo's touch.     Death felt it to his inwards; 'twas too much:     Death fell a weeping in his charnel-house.     The Latmian persever'd along, and thus     All were re-animated. There arose     A noise of harmony, pulses and throes     Of gladness in the air while many, who     Had died in mutual arms devout and true,     Sprang to each other madly; and the rest     Felt a high certainty of being blest.     They gaz'd upon Endymion. Enchantment     Grew drunken, and would have its head and bent.     Delicious symphonies, like airy flowers,     Budded, and swell'd, and, full-blown, shed full showers     Of light, soft, unseen leaves of sounds divine.     The two deliverers tasted a pure wine     Of happiness, from fairy-press ooz'd out.     Speechless they eyed each other, and about     The fair assembly wander'd to and fro,     Distracted with the richest overflow     Of joy that ever pour'd from heaven.      "Away!"     Shouted the new-born god; "Follow, and pay     Our piety to Neptunus supreme!"     Then Scylla, blushing sweetly from her dream,     They led on first, bent to her meek surprise,     Through portal columns of a giant size,     Into the vaulted, boundless emerald.     Joyous all follow'd, as the leader call'd,     Down marble steps; pouring as easily     As hour-glass sand and fast, as you might see     Swallows obeying the south summer's call,     Or swans upon a gentle waterfall.     Thus went that beautiful multitude, nor far,     Ere from among some rocks of glittering spar,     Just within ken, they saw descending thick     Another multitude. Whereat more quick     Moved either host. On a wide sand they met,     And of those numbers every eye was wet;     For each their old love found. A murmuring rose,     Like what was never heard in all the throes     Of wind and waters: 'tis past human wit     To tell; 'tis dizziness to think of it.     This mighty consummation made, the host     Mov'd on for many a league; and gain'd, and lost     Huge sea-marks; vanward swelling in array,     And from the rear diminishing away,     Till a faint dawn surpris'd them. Glaucus cried,     "Behold! behold, the palace of his pride!     God Neptune's palaces!" With noise increas'd,     They shoulder'd on towards that brightening east.     At every onward step proud domes arose     In prospect, diamond gleams, and golden glows     Of amber 'gainst their faces levelling.     Joyous, and many as the leaves in spring,     Still onward; still the splendour gradual swell'd.     Rich opal domes were seen, on high upheld     By jasper pillars, letting through their shafts     A blush of coral. Copious wonder-draughts     Each gazer drank; and deeper drank more near:     For what poor mortals fragment up, as mere     As marble was there lavish, to the vast     Of one fair palace, that far far surpass'd,     Even for common bulk, those olden three,     Memphis, and Babylon, and Nineveh.     As large, as bright, as colour'd as the bow     Of Iris, when unfading it doth shew     Beyond a silvery shower, was the arch     Through which this Paphian army took its march,     Into the outer courts of Neptune's state:     Whence could be seen, direct, a golden gate,     To which the leaders sped; but not half raught     Ere it burst open swift as fairy thought,     And made those dazzled thousands veil their eyes     Like callow eagles at the first sunrise.     Soon with an eagle nativeness their gaze     Ripe from hue-golden swoons took all the blaze,     And then, behold! large Neptune on his throne     Of emerald deep: yet not exalt alone;     At his right hand stood winged Love, and on     His left sat smiling Beauty's paragon.     Far as the mariner on highest mast     Can see all round upon the calmed vast,     So wide was Neptune's hall: and as the blue     Doth vault the waters, so the waters drew     Their doming curtains, high, magnificent,     Aw'd from the throne aloof; and when storm-rent     Disclos'd the thunder-gloomings in Jove's air;     But sooth'd as now, flash'd sudden everywhere,     Noiseless, sub-marine cloudlets, glittering     Death to a human eye: for there did spring     From natural west, and east, and south, and north,     A light as of four sunsets, blazing forth     A gold-green zenith 'bove the Sea-God's head.     Of lucid depth the floor, and far outspread     As breezeless lake, on which the slim canoe     Of feather'd Indian darts about, as through     The delicatest air: air verily,     But for the portraiture of clouds and sky:     This palace floor breath-air, but for the amaze     Of deep-seen wonders motionless, and blaze     Of the dome pomp, reflected in extremes,     Globing a golden sphere.      They stood in dreams     Till Triton blew his horn. The palace rang;     The Nereids danc'd; the Syrens faintly sang;     And the great Sea-King bow'd his dripping head.     Then Love took wing, and from his pinions shed     On all the multitude a nectarous dew.     The ooze-born Goddess beckoned and drew     Fair Scylla and her guides to conference;     And when they reach'd the throned eminence     She kist the sea-nymph's cheek, who sat her down     A toying with the doves. Then, "Mighty crown     And sceptre of this kingdom!" Venus said,     "Thy vows were on a time to Nais paid:     Behold!" Two copious tear-drops instant fell     From the God's large eyes; he smil'd delectable,     And over Glaucus held his blessing hands.     "Endymion! Ah! still wandering in the bands     Of love? Now this is cruel. Since the hour     I met thee in earth's bosom, all my power     Have I put forth to serve thee. What, not yet     Escap'd from dull mortality's harsh net?     A little patience, youth! 'twill not be long,     Or I am skilless quite: an idle tongue,     A humid eye, and steps luxurious,     Where these are new and strange, are ominous.     Aye, I have seen these signs in one of heaven,     When others were all blind; and were I given     To utter secrets, haply I might say     Some pleasant words: but Love will have his day.     So wait awhile expectant. Pr'ythee soon,     Even in the passing of thine honey-moon,     Visit my Cytherea: thou wilt find     Cupid well-natured, my Adonis kind;     And pray persuade with thee Ah, I have done,     All blisses be upon thee, my sweet son!"     Thus the fair goddess: while Endymion     Knelt to receive those accents halcyon.     Meantime a glorious revelry began     Before the Water-Monarch. Nectar ran     In courteous fountains to all cups outreach'd;     And plunder'd vines, teeming exhaustless, pleach'd     New growth about each shell and pendent lyre;     The which, in disentangling for their fire,     Pull'd down fresh foliage and coverture     For dainty toying. Cupid, empire-sure,     Flutter'd and laugh'd, and oft-times through the throng     Made a delighted way. Then dance, and song,     And garlanding grew wild; and pleasure reign'd.     In harmless tendril they each other chain'd,     And strove who should be smother'd deepest in     Fresh crush of leaves.      O 'tis a very sin     For one so weak to venture his poor verse     In such a place as this. O do not curse,     High Muses! let him hurry to the ending.     All suddenly were silent. A soft blending     Of dulcet instruments came charmingly;     And then a hymn.     "KING of the stormy sea!     Brother of Jove, and co-inheritor     Of elements! Eternally before     Thee the waves awful bow. Fast, stubborn rock,     At thy fear'd trident shrinking, doth unlock     Its deep foundations, hissing into foam.     All mountain-rivers lost, in the wide home     Of thy capacious bosom ever flow.     Thou frownest, and old Eolus thy foe     Skulks to his cavern, 'mid the gruff complaint     Of all his rebel tempests. Dark clouds faint     When, from thy diadem, a silver gleam     Slants over blue dominion. Thy bright team     Gulphs in the morning light, and scuds along     To bring thee nearer to that golden song     Apollo singeth, while his chariot     Waits at the doors of heaven. Thou art not     For scenes like this: an empire stern hast thou;     And it hath furrow'd that large front: yet now,     As newly come of heaven, dost thou sit     To blend and interknit     Subdued majesty with this glad time.     O shell-borne King sublime!     We lay our hearts before thee evermore     We sing, and we adore!     "Breathe softly, flutes;     Be tender of your strings, ye soothing lutes;     Nor be the trumpet heard! O vain, O vain;     Not flowers budding in an April rain,     Nor breath of sleeping dove, nor river's flow,     No, nor the Eolian twang of Love's own bow,     Can mingle music fit for the soft ear     Of goddess Cytherea!     Yet deign, white Queen of Beauty, thy fair eyes     On our souls' sacrifice.     "Bright-winged Child!     Who has another care when thou hast smil'd?     Unfortunates on earth, we see at last     All death-shadows, and glooms that overcast     Our spirits, fann'd away by thy light pinions.     O sweetest essence! sweetest of all minions!     God of warm pulses, and dishevell'd hair,     And panting bosoms bare!     Dear unseen light in darkness! eclipser     Of light in light! delicious poisoner!     Thy venom'd goblet will we quaff until     We fill we fill!     And by thy Mother's lips "      Was heard no more     For clamour, when the golden palace door     Opened again, and from without, in shone     A new magnificence. On oozy throne     Smooth-moving came Oceanus the old,     To take a latest glimpse at his sheep-fold,     Before he went into his quiet cave     To muse for ever Then a lucid wave,     Scoop'd from its trembling sisters of mid-sea,     Afloat, and pillowing up the majesty     Of Doris, and the Egean seer, her spouse     Next, on a dolphin, clad in laurel boughs,     Theban Amphion leaning on his lute:     His fingers went across it All were mute     To gaze on Amphitrite, queen of pearls,     And Thetis pearly too.      The palace whirls     Around giddy Endymion; seeing he     Was there far strayed from mortality.     He could not bear it shut his eyes in vain;     Imagination gave a dizzier pain.     "O I shall die! sweet Venus, be my stay!     Where is my lovely mistress? Well-away!     I die I hear her voice I feel my wing "     At Neptune's feet he sank. A sudden ring     Of Nereids were about him, in kind strife     To usher back his spirit into life:     But still he slept. At last they interwove     Their cradling arms, and purpos'd to convey     Towards a crystal bower far away.     Lo! while slow carried through the pitying crowd,     To his inward senses these words spake aloud;     Written in star-light on the dark above:     Dearest Endymion! my entire love!     How have I dwelt in fear of fate: 'tis done     Immortal bliss for me too hast thou won.     Arise then! for the hen-dove shall not hatch     Her ready eggs, before I'll kissing snatch     Thee into endless heaven. Awake! awake!     The youth at once arose: a placid lake     Came quiet to his eyes; and forest green,     Cooler than all the wonders he had seen,     Lull'd with its simple song his fluttering breast.     How happy once again in grassy nest!