III 'Tis said, she first was changed into a 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. vapour, And then into a cloud, such clouds as flit, Like splendour-winged moths about a taper, Round the red west when the sun dies in it : And then into a meteor, such as caper On hill-tops when the moon is in a fit: Then, into one of those mysterious stars And every beast of beating heart grew With that bright sign the billows to indent The sea-deserted sand-like children chidden, At her command they ever came and VI IV VII Ten times the Mother of the Months had | The brinded lioness led forth her young, bent That she might teach them how they should forego Her bow beside the folding-star, and bidden Their inborn thirst of death; the pard went Since in that cave a dewy splendour hidden They drank before her at her sacred fount; Took shape and motion with the living form Of this embodied Power, the cave grew warm. bold, Such gentleness and power even to behold. 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 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 V A lovely lady garmented in light From her own beauty-deep her eyes, as are Two openings of unfathomable night Dark-the dim brain whirls dizzy with IX And her low voice was heard like love, And universal Pan, 'tis said, was there, and drew And though none saw him,-through the adamant All living things towards this wondernew. Cicada are, drunk with the noonday dew: And Dryope and Faunus followed quick, Till in this cave they found the lady lone, Of the deep mountains, through the Seemed like the fleeting image of a shade: No thought of living spirit could abide, And through those living spirits, like Which to her looks had ever been be trackless air, a want trayed, 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, On any object in the world so wide, On any hope within the circling skies, But on her form, and in her inmost eyes. And twined three threads of fleecy mist, and three And every shepherdess of Ocean's Long lines of light, such as the dawn flocks, Who drives her white waves over the Stirred 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 birdfooted. XIII Which when the lady knew, she took her spindle may kindle The clouds and waves and mountains with; and she green sea, And Ocean with the brine on his gray As many star-beams, ere their lamps locks, could dwindle And quaint Priapus with his company, All came, much wondering how the enwombed rocks Could have brought forth so beautiful A shadow for the splendour of her love. a birth; wove Her love subdued their wonder and their mirth. XII For she was beautiful-her beauty made The bright world dim, and everything beside In the belated moon, wound skilfully; And with these threads a subtle veil she XI The herdsmen and the mountain maidens Were stored with magic treasuressounds of air, came, And the rude kings of pastoral Gara- Which had the power all spirits of com mant Their spirits shook within them, as a flame XIV The deep recesses of her odorous dwelling pelling, 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 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 gold and blood-till men should live and move Harmonious as the sacred stars above; XVI And odours in a kind of aviary Of ever-blooming Eden-trees she kept, Clipt in a floating net, a love-sick Fairy Had woven from dew-beams while the moon yet slept; Time, earth, and fire-the ocean and the wind, As bats at the wired window of a dairy, | And all their shapes—and man's imperial They beat their vans; and each was will; And other scrolls whose writings did unbind sleep, And change eternal death into a night She in her crystal vials did closely If men could drink of those clear vials, 'tis said The living were not envied of the dead. XIX XVIII Her cave was stored with scrolls of strange device, The works of some Saturnian Arch And how all things that seem untameable, Not to be checked and not to be confined, an adept, When loosed and missioned, making wings of winds, The inmost lore of Love-let the profane To stir sweet thoughts or sad, in destined Tremble to ask what secrets they con minds. tain. XVII XX And liquors clear and sweet, whose And wondrous works of substances unhealthful might known, Could medicine the sick soul to happy To which the enchantment of her father's power Had changed those ragged blocks of savage stone, Were heaped in the recesses of her bower; Carved lamps and chalices, and vials which shone Too lightly lost, redeeming native vice; And which might quench the Earthconsuming rage Obey the spells of wisdom's wizard skill; In their own golden beams- each like a flower, Out of whose depth a fire-fly shakes his light XXI At first she lived alone in this wild home, And her own thoughts were each a minister, Which taught the expiations at whose Clothing themselves, or with the ocean image, price Men from the Gods might win that happy age foam, Or with the wind, or with the speed of fire, To work whatever purposes might come Had girt them with, whether to fly or Shall be my paths henceforth, and so— farewell!" run, Through all the regions which he shines upon. XXII The Ocean-nymphs and Hamadryades, Oreads and Naiads, with long weedy locks, Offered to do her bidding through the seas, Under the earth, and in the hollow rocks, And far beneath the matted roots of trees, And in the gnarlèd heart of stubborn So they might live for ever in the light Their latest leaf upon the mountains wide; The boundless ocean like a drop of dew must Be scattered, like a cloud of summer dust. XXIV "And ye with them will perish, one by one; If I must sigh to think that this shall be, If I must weep when the surviving Sun XXV She spoke and wept :-the dark and azure well not me To love you till your little race is run; Sparkled beneath the shower of her bright tears, XXIII All day the wizard lady sate aloof, Spelling out scrolls of dread antiquity, "This may not be," the wizard maid Under the cavern's fountain-lighted replied; roof; "The fountains where the Naiades bedew Or broidering the pictured poesy Of some high tale upon her growing woof, Their shining hair, at length are drained and dried; The solid oaks forget their strength, and strew Which the sweet splendour of her smiles could dye In hues outshining Heaven--and ever she Added some grace to the wrought poesy. And every little circlet where they fell Flung to the cavern-roof inconstant spheres And intertangled lines of light :-a knell Of sobbing voices came upon her ears From those departing Forms, o'er the XXVII Will be consumed-the stubborn centre While on her hearth lay blazing many a piece Of sandal wood, rare gums, and cinnamon; Men scarcely know how beautiful fire is serene Of the white streams and of the forest green. XXVI Each flame of it is as a precious stone Dissolved in ever-moving light, and this Belongs to each and all who gaze upon. The Witch beheld it not, for in her hand She held a woof that dimmed the burning brand. XXVIII This lady never slept, but lay in trance All night within the fountain as in And gave it to this daughter: from a sleep. car Its emerald crags glowed in her beauty's Changed to the fairest and the lightest glance; boat Through the green splendour of the water Which ever upon mortal stream did deep float. She saw the constellations reel and dance keep The tenour of her contemplations calm, With open eyes, closed feet and folded palm. XXIX And when the whirlwinds and the clouds descended From the white pinnacles of that cold Stole a strange seed, and wrapt it up in hill, mould, And sowed it in his mother's star, and Watering it all the summer with sweet She past at dewfall to a space extended, There yawned an inextinguishable well XXXII And others say, that, when but three hours old, The first-born Love out of his cradle leapt, And clove dun Chaos with his wings of gold, And like an horticultural adept, wrought For Venus, as the chariot of her star; XXXI XXXIV She had a Boat, which some say Vulcan This boat she moored upon her fount, and lit A living spirit within all its frame, Breathing the soul of swiftness into it. Couched on the fountain like a panther tame, One of the twain at Evan's feet that sit |