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Now while the earth was drinking it, and while

[pile, Bay-leaves were crackling in the fragrant And gummy frankincense was sparkling bright

[light 'Neath smothering parsley, and a hazy Spread greyly eastward, thus a chorus sang:

us,

And gather up all fancifullest shells
For thee to tumble into Naiads' cells,
And, being hidden, laugh at their out-

peeping;
Or to delight thee with fantastic leaping,
The while they pelt each other on the crown
With silvery oak-apples, and fir-cones

brown, By all the echoes that about thee ring, Hear O satyr king!

[shears, "O Hearkener to the loud - clapping While ever and anon to his shorn peers A ram goes bleating! Winder of the horn, When snouted wild boars routing tender

[farms, Anger our huntsman! Breather round our To keep off mildews and all weather harms ! Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds, That come a-swooning over hollow

grounds, And wither drearily on barren moors ! Dread opener of the mysterious doors Leading to universal knowledge !--see, Great son of Dryope, The many that are come to pay their vows With leaves about their brows!

O thou whose mighty palace roof doth

hang From jagged trunks, and overshadoweth Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life,

death Of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness; Who lov'st to see the hamadryads dress Their ruffled locks where meeting hazels darken;

[and hearken And through whole solemn hours dost sit, The dreary melody of bedded reedsIn desolate places, where dank moisture

breeds The pipy hemlock to strange overgrowth; Bethinking thee, how melancholy loth Thou wast to lose fair Syrinx-do thou By thy love's milky brow!

[now, By all the trembling mazes that she ran, Hear us, great Pan !

(turtles "O thou for whose soul-soothing quiet, Passion their

voices cooingly'mong myrtles, What time thou wanderest at eventide Through sunny meadows, that outskirt the side

(whom Of thine enmossèd realms: Othou to Broad-leaved fig-trees even now foredoom Their ripened fruitage; yellow-girted bees Their golden honeycombs; our village leas Their fairest blossomed beans and poppied

corn ; The chuckling linnet its five young unborn, To sing for thee; low-creeping strawberries Their summercoolness; pent-up butterflies Their freckled wings; yea, the fresh-bud

corn

"Be still the unimaginable lodge For solitary thinkings; such as dodge Conception to the very bourne of heaven, Then leave the naked brain : be still the leaven,

(earth, That spreading in this dull and clodded Gives it a touch ethereal-a new birth: Be still a symbol of immensity; A firmament reflected in a sea; An element filling the space between; An unknown-but no more: we humbly

screen With uplift hands our foreheads, lowly

bending, And giving out a shout most heaven-rend

ing, Conjure thee to receive our humble pæan, Upon thy Mount Lycean!"

ding year

All its completions-be quickly near,
By every wind that nods the mountain-pine,
O forester divine !

[flies "Thou to whom every fawn and satyr For willing service; whether to surprise The squatted hare while in half-sleeping Or upward ragged precipices flit [fit; To save poor lambkins from the eagle's

mawi Or by mysterious enticement draw Bewildered shepherds to their path again; Or to tread breathless round the frothy

main,

DIANA.

[apace, -A BRIGHT something, sailing down Making me quickly veil my eyes and face: Again I looked, and, O ye deities, Who from Olympus watch our destinies! Whence that completed form of all completeness?

[sweetness ? Whence came that high perfection of all CAST ASLEEP.

mad;

Speak, stubborn earth, and tell me where,

oh! where Hast thou a symbol of her golden hair? Not oat-sheaves drooping in the western

sun; Not-thy soft hand, fair sister! let me shun Such follying before thee-yet she had, Indeed, locks bright enough to make me

[braided, And they were simply gordianed up and Leaving, in naked comeliness, unshaded Her pearl-round ears, white neck, and orbed brow ;

[how, The which were blended in, I know not With such a Paradise of lips and eyes, Blush - tinted cheeks, half-smiles, and faintest sighs,

[clings That, when I think thereon, my spirit And plays about its fancy, till the stings Of human neighbourhood envenom all. Unto what awful power shall I call ? To what high fane?--Ah! see her hovering feet,

(whitely sweet More bluely veined, more soft, more Than those of sea-born Venus, when she

[blows From out her cradle shell. The wind outHer scarf into a fluttering pavilion ; 'Tis blue, and over-spangled with a million Of little eyes, as though thou wert to shed Over the darkest, lushest bluebell bed, Handfuls of daisies.

She took an airy range, And then, towards me, like a very maid Came blushing, waning, willing, and afraid, And pressed me by the hand. Ah! 'twas

too much ; Methought I fairted at the charmed touch.

AFTER a thousand mazes overgone, At last, with sudden step, he came upon Achamber, myrtle walled, embowered high, Full of light, incense, tender minstrelsy, And more of beautiful and strange beside: For on a silken couch of rosy pride, In midst of all, there lay a sleeping youth Of fondest beauty; fonder, in fair sooth, Than sighs could fathom or contentment

reach: And coverlids gold-tinted like the peach, Or ripe October's faded marigolds, Fell sleek about him in a thousand foldsNot hiding up an Apollonian curve Of neck and shoulder, nor the tenting swerve Of knee from knee, norankles pointing light; But rather, giving them to the filled sight Officiously. Sideway his face reposed On one white arm, and tenderly unclosed, By tenderest pressure, a faint damask mouth To slumbery pout; just as the morning south Dispartsa dew-lipped rose. Above bis head, Four lily-stalks did their white honours wed To make a coronal; and round him grew All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, Together intertwined and trammelled fresh: The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh, Shading its Æthiop berries; and woodbine, Of velvet leaves and bugle-blooms divine; Convolvulus in streaked vases flush ; Thecreeper mellowing for an autumn blush; And virgin's-bower, trailing airily; With others of the sisterhood. Hard by, Stood serene Cupids watching silently. One, kneeling to a lyre, touched the strings, Muffling to death the pathos with his wings; And, ever and anon, uprose to look At the youth's slumber; while another took A willow-bough, distilling odorous dew, And shook it on his hair; another flew In through the woven roof, and, fluttering

wise, Rained violets upon his sleeping eyes.

rose

SLEEP.

HYPERION.

O MAGIC sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the

mind Till it is hushed and smooth! Ounconfined Restraint! imprisoned liberty! great key To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy, Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled

caves, Echoing grottoes, full of tumbling waves And moonlight; ay, to all the mazy world Of silvery enchantment !--who, upfurled Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour, But renovates and lives?

SUDDENLY a splendour, like the morn,
Pervaded all the beetling gloomy steeps,
All the sad spaces of oblivion,
And every gulf, and every chasm old,
And every height, and every sullen depth,
Voiceless, or hoarse with loud tormented

streams;
And all the everlasting cataracts,

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And all the headlong torrents far and near,
Mantled before in darkness and huge shade,
Now saw the light and made it terrible.
It was Hyperion :-a granite peak
His bright feet touched, and there he

stayed to view
The misery his brilliance had betrayed
To the most hateful seeing of itself.
Golden his hair of short Numidian curl,
Regal his shape majestic, a vast shade
In midst of his own brightness, like the bulk
Of Memnon's image at the set of sun
To one who travels from the dusking East:
Sighs, too, as mournful as that Memnon's

harp He uttered, while his hands contemplative He pressed together, and in silence stood.

APOLLO.

REJOICE, O Delos, with thine olives green, And poplars, and lawn-shading palms, and beech,

[song, In which the Zephyr breathes the loudest And hazels thick, dark-stemmed beneath

the shade ; Apollo is once more the golden theme ! Where was he when the Giant of the Sun Stood bright, amid the sorrow of his peers? Together had he left his mother fair And his twin-sister sleeping in their bower, And in the morning twilight wandered forth Beside the osiers of a rivulet, Full ankle-deep in lilies of the vale. The nightingale had ceased, and a few stars Were lingering in the heavens, while the thrush

[isle Began calm-throated. Throughout all the There was no covert, no retired cave Unhaunted by the murmurous noise of

waves, Though scarcely heard in many a green He listened, and he wept, and his bright tears

held. Went trickling down the golden bow he Thus with half-shut suffusèd eyes he stood, While from beneath some cumbrous boughs

hard by With solemn step an awful Goddess came, And there was purport in her looks for him, Which he with eager guess began to read Perplexed, the while melodiously he said: "How cam'st thou over the unfooted sea? Or hath that antique mien and robèd form Moved in these vales invisible till now?

Sure I have heard those vestments sweeping

o'er The fallen leaves when I have sat alone In cool mid-forest. Surely I have traced The rustle of those ample skirts about These grassy solitudes, and seen the flowers Lift up their heads, as still the whisper

passed. Goddess! I have beheld those eyes before, And their eternal calm, and all that face, Or I have dreamed."--"Yes," said the supreme shape,

[up, " Thou hast dreamed of me; and awaking Didst find a lyre all golden by thy side, Whose strings touched by thy fingers, all

the vast Unwearied ear of the whole universe Listened in pain and pleasure at the birth Of such new tuneful wonder. Is't not strange

[me, youth, That thou shouldst weep, so gifted ? Tell What sorrow thou canst feel : for I am sad When thou dost shed a tear; explain thy

griefs To one who in this lonely isle hath been The watcher of thy sleep and hours of life, From the young day when first thy infant hand

(arm Plucked witless the weak flowers, till thine Could bend that bow heroic to all times. Show thy heart's secret to an ancient Power Who hath forsaken old and sacred thrones For prophecies of thee, and for the sake Of loveliness new born."—Apollo then With sudden scrutiny and gloomless eyes, Thus answered, while his white melodious

throat Throbbed with the syllables:''Mnemosyne ! Thy name is on my tongue, I know not how; Why should I tell thee what thou so well seest?

[thy lips Why should I strive to show what from Would come no mystery? For me, dark,

dark, And painful vile oblivion seals my eyes: I strive to search wherefore I am so sad, Until a melancholy numbs my limbs; And then upon the grass I sit and moan, Like one who once had wings. Oh, why should I

[less air Feel cursed and thwarted, when the liegeYields to my step aspirant? why should Spurn the green turf as hateful to my feet? Goddess benign, point forth some unknown

thing : Are there not other regions than this isle? What are the stars? There is the sun, the

sun!

recess.

And the Spring arose on the garden fair, Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere; And each flower and herb on Earth's dark

breast Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.

But none ever trembled and panted with

bliss In the garden, the field, and the wilderness, Like a doe in the noontide with love's sweet

want, As the companionless Sensitive Plant.

The snowdrop, and then the violet,
Arose from the ground with warm rain

wet, And their breath was mixed with fresh

odour, sent From the turf, like the voice and the in

strument.

And the most patient brilliance of the moon!

(the way And stars by thousands ! Point me out To any one particular beauteous star, And I will flit into it with my lyre, [bliss. And make its silvery splendour pant with I have heard the cloudy thunder. Where

is power? Whose hand, whose essence, what divinity Makes this alarum in the elements, While I here idle listen on the shores In fearless yet in aching ignorance? Oh, tell me, lonely Goddess, by thy harp, That waileth every morn and eventide, Tell me why thus I rave about these groves ! Mute thou remainest-mule! yet I can read A wondrous lesson in thy silent face: Knowledge enormous makes a god of me. Names, deeds, grey legends, dire events,

rebellions, Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, And deify me, as if some blithe wine Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, And so become immortal." Thus the God, While his enkindled eyes, with level glance Beneath his white soft temples, steadfast

kept Trembling with light upon Mnemosyne. Soon wild commotions shook him, and

made flush All the immortal fairness of his limbs; Most like the struggle at the gate of death, Or liker still to one who should take leave Of pale immortal death, and with a pang As hot as death's is chill, with fierce con

vulse Die into life: so young Apollo anguished; His very hair, his golden tresses famed, Kept undulation round his eager neck. During the pain Mnemosyne upheld Her arms as one who prophesied.

Then the pied wind-flowers and the tulip

tall, And narcissi, the fairest among them all, Who gaze on their eyes in the stream's

recess, Till they die of their own dear loveliness;

And the Naïad-like lily of the vale,
Whom youth makes so fair and passion so

pale, That the light of its tremulous bells is seen Through their pavilions of tender green;

And the hyacinth, purple, and white, and

blue, Which flung from its bells a sweet peal

anew Of music so delicate, soft, and intense, It was felt like an odour within the sense ;

And the rose like a nymph to the bath

addrest, Which unveiled the depth of her glowing

breast, Till, fold after fold, to the fainting air The soul of her beauty and love lay bare;

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And the wand-like lily, which lifted up,
As a Mænad, its moonlight-coloured cup,
Till the fiery star, which is its eye, (sky;
Gazed through clear dew on the tender

THE SENSITIVE PLANT.

A SENSITIVE PLANT in a garden grew, And the young winds fed it with silver dew, And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light, And closed them beneath the kisses of

night.

And the jessamine faint, and the sweet

tuberose, The sweetest flower for scent that blows;

And all rare blossoms from every clime | Grew in that garden in perfect prime.

SHELLEY.

161

And on the stream whose inconstant bosom Was prankt under boughs of embowering blossom,

(through With golden and green light, slanting Their heaven of many a tangled hue,

Broad water-lilies lay tremulously,
And starry river-buds glimmered by,
And around them the soft stream did glide

and dance With a motion of sweet sound and radiance.

The beams which dart from many a star
Of the flowers whose hues they bear afar;
The plumed insects swift and free,
Like golden boats on a sunny sea,
Laden with light and odour, which pass
Over the gleam of the living grass ;
The unseen clouds of the dew, which lie
Like fire in the flowers till the sun rides high,
Then wanderlike spirits among the spheres,
Each cloud faint with the fragrance it bears;

And the sinuous paths of lawn and moss, Which led through the garden along and

across, Some open at once to the sun and the breeze, Some lost among bowers of blossoming trees,

[bells Were all paved with daisies and delicate As fair as the fabulous asphodels, {ed too And flow'rets which drooping as day droopFell into pavilions, white, purple, and blue, Torooftheglowworm from theevening dew.

And from this undefiled Paradise
The flowers (as an infant's awakening eyes
Smile on its mother, whose singing sweet
Can first lull, and at last must awaken it),
When Heaven's blithe winds had unfolded

them, As mine-lamps enkindle a hidden gem, Shone smiling to Heaven, and every one Shared joy in the light of the gentle sun; For each one was interpenetrated With the light and the odour its neighbour shed,

[make dear Like young lovers whom youth and love Wrapped and filled by their mutual atmosphere.

(small fruit But the Sensitive Plant, which could give Of the love which it felt from the leaf to the root,

[ever, Received more than all, it loved more than Where none wanted but it, could belong to the giver,

[flower; For the Sensitive Plant has no bright Radiance and odour are not its dower; It loves, even like Love, its deep heart is full, It desires what it has not,-the Beautiful!

The quivering vapours of dim noontide,
Which like a sea o'er the warm earth glide,
In which every sound, and odour, and beam,
Move, as reeds in a single stream;
Each and all like ministering angels were
For the Sensitive Plant sweet joy to bear,
Whilst the lagging hours of the day went by
Like windless clouds o'er a tender sky.
And when evening descended from Heaven
above,

(all love, And the Earth was all rest, and the air was And delight, though less bright, was far

more deep, And the day's veil fell from the world of

sleep, And the beasts, and the birds, and the

insects were drowned In an ocean of dreams without a sound; Whose waves never mark, though they ever impress

(ness; The light sand which paves it, conscious(Only overhead the sweet nightingale Ever sang more sweet as the day might fail, And snatches of its Elysian chant Were mixed with the dreams of the Sensi

tive Plant.)
The Sensitive Plant was the earliest
Up-gathered into the bosom of rest;
A sweet child weary of its delight,
The feeblest and yet the favourite,
Cradled within the embrace of night.

There was

Power in this sweet place, An Eve in this Eden; a ruling grace Which to the flowers, did they waken or

dream, Was as God is to the starry scheme.

The light winds which from unsustaining

wings Shed the music of many murmurings;

A Lady, the wonder of her kind,
Whose form was upborne by a lovely mind

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