Are cradled into poetry by wrong: "And was not this enough? They met, they parted." "Child, is there no more?" If I had been an unconnected man, "Something within that interval, which bore 1, from this moment, should have form'd some plan The stamp of why they parted, how they met ; Never to leave sweet Venice: for to me I watched him, and seldom went away, After many years, His dog was dead: his child had now become I might be six years old :-But, after all, Yet if thine aged eyes disdain to wet Those wrinkled cheeks with youth's remember d tears, Ask me no more; but let the silent years I urged and question'd still: she told me how THE WITCH OF ATLAS. I. BEFORE those cruel Twins, whom at one birth The pains of putting into learned rhyme, II. Her mother was one of the Atlantides: The all-beholding Sun had ne'er beholden He kiss'd her with his beams, and made all golden III. "Tis said, she was first changed into a vapor, On hill-tops when the moon is in a fit; IV. Ten times the Mother of the Months had bent Her bow beside the folding-star, and bidden With that bright sign the billows to indent The sea-deserted sand: like children chidden, At her command they ever came and went:Since in that cave a dewy splendor hidden, Took shape and motion: with the living form Of this embodied Power, the cave grew warm V. A lovely lady garmented in light From her own beauty-deep her eyes, as are Two openings of unfathomable night Seen through a tempest-cloven roof-her hair Dark-the dim brain whirls dizzy with delight, Picturing her form! her soft smiles shone afar, "Why, her heart must have been tough: And her low voice was heard like love, and drew How did it end?" All living things towards this wonder new. VI. And first the spotted cameleopard came, And then the wise and fearless elephant; Then the sly serpent, in the golden flame Of his own volumes intervolved;-all gaunt And sanguine beasts her gentle looks made tame. They drank before her at her sacred fount, And every beast of beating heart grew bold, Such gentleness and power even to behold. VII. The brinded lioness led forth her young, That she might teach them how they should forego Their inborn thirst of death; the pard unstrung His sinews at her feet, and sought to know, With looks whose motions spoke without a tongue, How he might be as gentle as the doe. The magic circle of her voice and eyes All savage natures did imparadise. VIII. And old Silenus, shaking a green stick Of lilies, and the wood-gods in a crew Came, blithe, as in the olive copses thick Cicada are, drunk with the noonday dew: And Driope and Faunus follow'd quick, Teasing the God to sing them something new, Till in this cave they found the lady lone, Sitting upon a seat of emerald stone. IX. And Universal Pan, 'tis said, was there, And though none saw him,-through the adamant Of the deep mountains, through the trackless air, And through those living spirits, like a want He past out of his everlasting lair Where the quick heart of the great world doth pant, And felt that wondrous lady all alone,And she felt him, upon her emerald throne. X. And every nymph of stream and spreading tree, All came, much wondering how the enwombed rocks Could have brought forth so beautiful a birth;— XI. The herdsmen and the mountain maidens came, And the rude kings of pastoral GaramantThese spirits shook within them, as a flame Stirr'd by the air under a cavern gaunt : Pigmies, and Polyphemes, by many a name, Centaurs and Satyrs, and such shapes as haunt Wet clefts, and lumps neither alive nor dead, Dog-headed, bosom-eyed and bird-footed. XII. For she was beautiful: her beauty made XIII. Which when the lady knew, she took her spindle As many star-beams, ere their lamps could dwindle XIV. The deep recesses of her odorous dwelling Were stored with magic treasures-sounds of air Which had the power all spirits of compelling, Folded in cells of crystal silence there; Such as we hear in youth, and think the feeling Will never die—yet ere we are aware, The feeling and the sound are fled and gone, And the regret they leave remains alone. XV. And there lay Visions swift, and sweet, and quaint, It is its work to bear to many a saint Whose heart adores the shrine which holiest is, Even Love's-and others white, green, gray, and black, And of all shapes-and each was at her beck. Of ever-blooming Eden-trees she kept, As bats at the wired window of a dairy, They beat their vans; and each was an adept, When loosed and mission'd, making wings of winds, To stir sweet thoughts or sad in destined minds XVII. And liquors clear and sweet, whose healthful might Could medicine the sick soul to happy sleep, And change eternal death into a night Of glorious dreams or if eyes needs must weep Could make their tears all wonder and delight, She in her crystal vials did closely keep: If men could drink of those clear vials, 'tis said The living were not envied of the dead. XVIII. Her cave was stored with scrolls of strange device, The works of some Saturnian Archimage, Which taught the expiations at whose price Men from the Gods might win that happy age Too lightly lost, redeeming native vice; And which might quench the earth-consuming rage Of gold and blood-till men should live and move Harmonious as the sacred stars above. XIX. And how all things that seem untamable, Not to be check'd and not to be confined, Obey the spells of wisdom's wizard skill : Time, Earth and Fire-the Ocean and the Wind, And all their shapes-and man's imperial will; And other scrolls whose writings did unbind The inmost lore of Love-let the profane Tremble to ask what secrets they contain. XXVI. All day the wizard lady sat aloof, Of some high tale upon her growing woof, XXVII. While on her hearth lay blazing many a piece 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. Like fire-flies-and withal did ever keep 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 And when the windless snow descended thicker Than autumn leaves, she watch'd it as it came Melt on the surface of the level flame. XXXI. She had a Boat which some say Vulcan wrought And gave it to this daughter: from a car XXXII. And others say, that when but three hours old, And like a horticultural adept, Stole a strange seed, and wrapt it up in mould, XXXIII. The plant grew strong and green-the snowy flower To turn the light and dew by inward power Of light firm texture, ribb'd and branching, o'er Which the sweet splendor of her smiles could dye The solid rind, like a leaf's veined fan, In hues outshining Heaven-and ever she Of which Love scoop'd this boat, and with soft motion XLI. XXXIV. This boat she moor'd upon her fount, and lit Couch'd 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, Or on blind Homer's heart a winged thought,In joyous expectation lay the boat. XXXV. Then by strange art she kneaded fire and snow Through which the harmony of love can pass; A sexless thing it was, and in its growth In gentleness and strength its limbs were deck'd; The bosom lightly swell'd with its full youth, The countenance was such as might select Some artist that his skill should never die, Imaging forth such perfect purity. XXXVII. From its smooth shoulders hung two rapid wings, She led her creature to the boiling springs Where the light boat was moor'd, and said"Sit here!" And pointed to the prow, and took her seat XXXVIII. And ever down the prone vale, like a cloud XLII. And down the earthquaking cataracts which shiver Or under chasms unfathomable ever It fled the circling sunbows did upbear XLIII. And when the wizard lady would ascend The labyrinths of some many-winding vale, Which to the inmost mountain upward tend She call'd "Hermaphroditus!" and the pale And heavy hue which slumber could extend Over its lips and eyes, as on the gale A rapid shadow from a slope of grass, Into the darkness of the stream did pass. XLIV. And it unfurl'd its Heaven-color'd, pinions, Flinging a glory, like the golden glow In which spring clothes her emerald-winged minions, And moonlight splendor of intensest rime, XLV. And down the streams which clove those mountains And then it winnow'd the Elysian air vast Around their inland islets, and amid The panther-peopled forests, whose shade cast Darkness and odors, and a pleasure hid In melancholy gloom, the pinnace past; By many a star-surrounded pyramid Of icy crag cleaving the purple sky, XXXIX. The silver noon into that winding dell, XL. And ever as she went, the Image lay With folded wings and unawaken'd eyes; And o'er its gentle countenance did play The busy dreams, as thick as summer flies, Chasing the rapid smiles that would not stay, And drinking the warm tears, and the sweet sighs Inhaling, which, with busy murmur vain, They had aroused from that full heart and brain. Which ever hung about that lady bright, With its ethereal vans-and speeding there, Like a star up the torrent of the night, Or a swift eagle in the morning glare Breasting the whirlwind with impetuous flight; The pinnace, oar'd by those enchanted wings, Clove the fierce streams towards their upper springs. XLVI. The water flash'd like sunlight, by the prow Of a noon-wandering meteor flung to Heaven; The still air seem'd as if its waves did flow The lady's radiant hair stream'd to and fro: In tempest down the mountains,-loosely driven, Indignant and impetuous, roar'd to feel XLVII. Or, when the weary moon was in the wane, XLVIII. Canopus and his crew, lay th' Austral lake- XLIX. A haven, beneath whose translucent floor Based on the level waters, to the sky L. And whilst the outer lake beneath the lash Plow'd up the waters, and the flagging wing LI. On which that lady play'd her many pranks, Outspeeds the antelopes which speediest are, LII. And then she call'd out of the hollow turrets Of those high clouds, white, golden and vermilion, The armies of her ministering spirits In mighty legions, million after million On meteor flags; and many a proud pavilion, LIII. LV. These were tame pleasures.-She would often climb LVI. And sometimes to those streams of upper air, To let her join their chorus. Mortals found But her choice sport was, in the hours of sleep, of utmost Axumè, until he spreads, His waters on the plain: and crested heads LVIII. By Mæris and the Mareotid lakes, Strewn with faint blooms like bridal-chamber floors, Had left on the sweet waters mighty wakes Of those huge forms:- within the brazen doors Of the great Labyrinth slept both boy and beast, Tired with the pomp of their Osirian feast. LIX. And where within the surface of the river Like things which every cloud can doom to die, The works of man pierced that serenest sky LX. They framed the imperial tent of their great Queen With motion like the spirit of that wind LIV. And on a throne o'erlaid with star-light, caught Whose soft step deepens slumber, her light feet LXI. A pleasure sweet doubtless it was to see There, a lone youth who in his dreams did weep In their loose locks which over both did creep Like ivy from one stem;-and there lay calm, Old age with snow-bright hair and folded palm. |