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Of the wood fire, and round his shoulders fall;
And Athanase, her child, who must have been Then three years old, sate opposite and gazed In patient silence.
FRAGMENT II. Such was Zonoras; and as daylight finds One amaranth glittering on the path of frost, When autumn nights have nipped all weaker
Thus through his age, dark, cold, and tempest
tossed, Shone truth upon Zonoras; and he filled From fountains pure, nigh overgrown and lost,
The spirit of Prince Athanase, a child,
And sweet and subtle talk they evermore,
The youth, as shadows on a grassy hill
Strange truths and new to that experienced man; Still they were friends, as few have ever been Who mark the extremes of life's discordant.
So in the caverns of the forest green,
By summer woodmen; and, when winter's
Sounded o’er earth and sea its blast of war,
Hanging upon the peakèd wave afar,
Which pours beyond the sea one steadfast beam,
30 For, lo! the wintry clouds are all gone by, And bright Arcturus through yon pines is
glowing, And far o'er southern waves, immovably
Belted Orion hangs—warm light is flowing From the young moon into the sunset's chasm.“ O, summer eve! with power divine, bestowing
“ On thine own bird the sweet enthusiasm “ Which overflows in notes of liquid gladness, “ Filling the sky like light! How many a spasm
“ Of fevered brains, oppressed with grief and
madness, “ Were lulled by thee, delightful nightingale ! “ And these soft waves, murmuring a gentle
“ And the far sighings of yon piny dale “ Made vocal by some wind, we feel not here,“ I bear alone what nothing may avail
“ To lighten--a strange load!”-No human ear Heard this lament; but o'er the visage wan Of Athanase, a ruffling atmosphere
Of dark emotion, a swift shadow ran,
Beheld his mystic friend's whole being shake, Even where its inmost depths were gloomiestAnd with a calm and measured voice he spake,
And with a soft and equal pressure, pressed That cold lean hand:-“ Dost thou remember
yet, “ When the curved moon then lingering in the
“ Paused in yon waves her mighty horns to wet, “ How in those beams we walked, half resting on the sea ?
59 “ 'Tis just one year—sure thou dost not forget
“ Then Plato's words of light in thee and me “ Lingered like moonlight in the moonless east, “ For we had just then read--thy memory
“ Is faithful now—the story of the feast; “ And Agathon and Diotima seemed “ From death and dark forgetfulness released.”
FRAGMENT III. 'Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings From slumber, as a spherèd angel's child, Shadowing its eyes with green and golden
Stands up before its mother bright and mild,
To see it rise thus joyous from its dreams,
The grass in the warm sun did start and move, And sea-buds burst beneath the waves serene :How many a one, though none be near to love,
Loves then the shade of his own soul, half seen In any mirror-or the spring's young minions, The winged leaves amid the copses green ;
How many a spirit then puts on the pinions Of fancy, and outstrips the lagging blast, And his own steps—and over wide dominions
Sweeps in his dream-drawn chariot, far and fast, More fleet than storms—the wide world shrinks below,
20 When winter and despondency are past.
'Twas at this season that Prince Athanase Passed the white Alps—those eagle-baffling
mountains Slept in their shrouds of snow;-beside the
The waterfalls were voiceless—for their foun
tains Were changed to mines of sunless crystal now, Or by the curdling winds—like brazen wings Which clanged along the mountain's marble
brow, Warped into adamantine fret-work, hung 29 And filled with frozen light the chasm below.
FRAGMENT IV. Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all We can desire, O Love! and happy souls, Ere from thy vine the leaves of autumn fall, Catch thee, and feed from their o'erflowing
bowls Thousands who thirst for thy ambrosial dew ;Thou art the radiance which where ocean rolls Investest it; and when the heavens are blue Thou fillest them; and when the earth is fair The shadow of thy moving wings imbue Its deserts and its mountains, till they wear 10. Beauty like some bright robe ;—thou ever
soarest Among the towers of men, and as soft air In spring, which moves the unawakened forest, Clothing with leaves its branches bare and bleak. Thou floatest among men; and aye implorest That which from thee they should implore :-
the weak Alone kneel to thee, offering up the hearts The strong have broken--yet where shall any
seek A garment whom thou clothest not ?