Lycus The Centaur.

FROM AN UNROLLED MANUSCRIPT OF APOLLONIUS CURIUS. THE ARGUMENT. Lycus, detained by Circe in her magical dominion, is beloved by a Water Nymph, who, desiring to render him immortal, has recourse to the Sorceress. Circe gives her an incantation to pronounce, which should turn Lycus into a horse; but the horrible effect of the charm causing her to break off in the midst, he becomes a Centaur.     Who hath ever been lured and bound by a spell     To wander, fore-doomed, in that circle of hell     Where Witchery works with her will like a god,     Works more than the wonders of time at a nod, -     At a word, - at a touch, - at a flash of the eye,     But each form is a cheat, and each sound is a lie,     Things born of a wish - to endure for a thought,     Or last for long ages - to vanish to nought,     Or put on new semblance? O Jove, I had given     The throne of a kingdom to know if that heaven,     And the earth and its streams were of Circe, or whether     They kept the world's birthday and brighten'd together!     For I loved them in terror, and constantly dreaded     That the earth where I trod, and the cave where I bedded,     The face I might dote on, should live out the lease     Of the charm that created, and suddenly cease:     And I gave me to slumber, as if from one dream     To another - each horrid, - and drank of the stream     Like a first taste of blood, lest as water I quaff'd     Swift poison, and never should breathe from the draught, -     Such drink as her own monarch husband drain'd up     When he pledged her, and Fate closed his eyes in the cup.     And I pluck'd of the fruit with held breath, and a fear     That the branch would start back and scream out in my ear;     For once, at my suppering, I plucked in the dusk     An apple, juice-gushing and fragrant of musk;     But by daylight my fingers were crimson'd with gore,     And the half-eaten fragment was flesh at the core;     And once - only once - for the love of its blush,     I broke a bloom bough, but there came such a gush     On my hand, that it fainted away in weak fright,     While the leaf-hidden woodpecker shriek'd at the sight;     And oh! such an agony thrill'd in that note,     That my soul, startling up, beat its wings in my throat,     As it long'd to be free of a body whose hand     Was doom'd to work torments a Fury had plann'd!     There I stood without stir, yet how willing to flee,     As if rooted and horror-turn'd into a tree, -     Oh! for innocent death, - and to suddenly win it,     I drank of the stream, but no poison was in it;     I plunged in its waters, but ere I could sink,     Some invisible fate pull'd me back to the brink;     I sprang from the rock, from its pinnacle height,     But fell on the grass with a grasshopper's flight;     I ran at my fears - they were fears and no more,     For the bear would not mangle my limbs, nor the boar,     But moan'd - all their brutalized flesh could not smother     The horrible truth, - we were kin to each other!     They were mournfully gentle, and group'd for relief,     All foes in their skin, but all friends in their grief:     The leopard was there, - baby-mild in its feature;     And the tiger, black-barr'd, with the gaze of a creature     That knew gentle pity; the bristle-back'd boar,     His innocent tusks stain'd with mulberry gore;     And the laughing hyena - but laughing no more;     And the snake, not with magical orbs to devise     Strange death, but with woman's attraction of eyes;     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 choking     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 weaken, till hush'd in a pause     Of tongues in mute motion and wide-yawning jaws;     And I guessed 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 my 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 eyeballs, 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, but 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 stayed 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 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 roamed 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 heat -     But lest a brute-shadow should grow at my feet;     And besides 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,     Vile shapes without shape, and foul 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 rushed 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 dissevered, - 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 his eyes full of love, and the dim-drownd 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; - they oped and she raised     Two orbs of pure crystal, and timidly gazed     With her eyes on my eyes; but their color 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 forever; 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, - her arms were the arms that sought round     And claspt 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 gle, 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 gle, - 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 adder-black 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, - Oh I ne'er had been witched with their shine,     Had they been any other, my gle, 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 gle - that came     With the words on her lips the false witch had fore-given     To make me immortal - for now I was even     At the portals of Death, who but waited the hush     Of world-sounds in my ears to cry welcome, and rush     With my soul to the banks of his black-flowing river.     Oh, would it had flown from my body forever,     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 perished 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 brutalized 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 dishonor 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 forever, 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 shunned the abodes     Of men, that stood up in the likeness of Gods,     But I saw from afar the warm shine of the sun     On the 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 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 poured 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,     There were women! there men! but to me a third sex     I saw them all dots - yet I loved them as specks:     And oft to assuage a sad yearning of eyes     I stole near the city, but stole covert-wise     Like a wild beast of love, and perchance to be smitten     By some hand that I rather had wept on than bitten!     Oh, I once had a haunt near a cot where a mother     Daily sat in the shade with her child, and would smother     Its eyelids in kisses, and then in its sleep     Sang dreams in its ear of its manhood, while deep     In a thicket of willows I gazed o'er the brooks     That murmur'd between us and kiss'd them with looks;     But the willows unbosom'd their secret, and never     I return'd to a spot I had startled forever,     Though I oft long'd to know, but could ask it of none,     Was the mother still fair, and how big was her son?     For the haunters of fields they all shunn'd me by flight;     The men in their horror, the women in fright;     None ever remain'd save a child once that sported     Among the wild bluebells, and playfully courted     The breeze; and beside him a speckled snake lay     Tight strangled, because it had hiss'd him away     From the flower at his finger; he rose and drew near     Like a Son of Immortals, one born to no fear,     But with strength of black locks and with eyes azure bright     To grow to large manhood of merciful might.     He came, with his face of bold wonder, to feel,     The hair of my side, and to lift up my heel,     And question'd my face with wide eyes; but when under     My lids he saw tears, - for I wept at his wonder,     He stroked me, and utter'd such kindliness then,     That the once love of women, the friendship of men     In past sorrow, no kindness e'er came like a kiss     On my heart in its desolate day such as this!     And I yearn'd at his cheeks in my love, and down bent,     And lifted him up in my arms with intent     To kiss him, - but he cruel-kindly, alas!     Held out to my lips a pluck'd handful of grass!     Then I dropt him in horror, but felt as I fled     The stone he indignantly hurl'd at my head,     That dissever'd my ear, - but I felt not, whose fate     Was to meet more distress in his love that his hate!     Thus I wander'd, companion'd of grief and forlorn     Till I wish'd for that land where my being was born     But what was that land with its love, where my home     Was self-shut against me; for why should I come     Like an after-distress to my gray-bearded father,     With a blight to the last of his sight? - let him rather     Lament for me dead, and shed tears in the urn     Where I was not, and still in fond memory turn     To his son even such as he left him. Oh, how     Could I walk with the youth once my fellows, but now     Like Gods to my humbled estate? - or how bear     The steeds once the pride of my eyes and the care     Of my hands? Then I turn'd me self-banish'd, and came     Into Thessaly here, where I met with the same     As myself. I have heard how they met by a stream     In games, and were suddenly changed by a scream     That made wretches of many, as she roll'd her wild eyes     Against heaven, and so vanish'd. - The gentle and wise     Lose their thoughts in deep studies, and others their ill     In the mirth of mankind where they mingle them still.