With squl-sustaining songs, and sweet debates Of ancient lore there fed his lonely being. "The mind becomes that which it contemplates," And thus Zonoras, by forever seeing Their bright creations, grew like wisest men ; A bloodier power than ruled thy ruins then, Was grass-grown, and the unremembered tears And as the lady looked with faithful grief Where she once saw that horseman toil, with brief And blighting hope, who with the news of death Struck body and soul as with a mortal blight, She saw beneath the chestnuts, far beneath, An old man toiling up, a weary wight; She saw his white hairs glittering in the light 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 Such was Zonoras; and as daylight finds When autumn nights have nipped all weaker kinds, Thus through his age, dark, cold, and tempesttossed, 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 span. 41 One, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || An, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. So in the caverns of the forest green, By summer woodmen ; and when winter's roar Hanging upon the peaked wave afar, Then saw their lamp from Laian's turret gleam, Piercing the stormy darkness like a star Which pours beyond the sea one steadfast beam, Whilst all the constellations of the sky Seemed reeling through the storm. They did but seem For, lo! the wintry clouds are all gone by, ing, 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 58 So, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || And, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || night, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. 75 eve, “Of fevered brains, oppressed with grief and mad ness, Were lulled by thee, delightful nightingale ! And these soft waves, murmuring a gentle sadness, “And the far sighings of yon piny dale Made vocal by some wind we feel not here, "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, And with a soft and equal pressure, pressed "Paused in yon waves her mighty horns to wet, 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." 'Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings From slumber, as a sphered angel's child, Shadowing its eyes with green and golden wings, 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, Loves then the shade of his own soul, half seen How many a spirit then puts on the pinions Sweeps in his dream-drawn chariot, far and fast, More fleet than storms the wide world shrinks below, When winter and despondency are passed! 116 beneath, Mrs. Shelley, 18391 || under, Mrs. Shelley, 1824. |