PAN AND LAÏS.

Once on a time, grown tired of shepherd’s fare,

From hilly Arcady with swift descent,

Rough Pan in tunic wove of subtile air,

Invisible to sacred Corinth went;

Through his aerial vesture vision-proof,

No mortal eye could see or horn or hoof.

II.

With soundless tread he passed from street to street,

Through which as arteries the sea-winds blew;

And gorgeous shows the mighty rustic greet,

Where’er from right to left his glance he threw;

Poor seem his pastoral hills and forests all,

Matched with the Isthmus’ peerless capital.

III.

For now its rampires, palaces, and shrines,

Lit up by morning’s golden glances stood;

A pillared labyrinth, through which there winds

With ceaseless flow a various multitude.

Nobles and merchants swiftly roll along,

On radiant cars by Thracian coursers drawn.

IV.

And hoary priests, in robes of purest white,

Lead slowly up the pomp of sacrifice

To stately fanes, where wreaths of incense light

From fuming altars climb the purple skies;

While slender pipes by youthful minions blown,

With softest melodies the rites make known.

From foam-born Aphrodite’s voluptuous seat

On Acrocorinth’s lofty summit pour,

Their raven tresses dropping unguents sweet,

Her thousand handmaids to the busy shore,

Where they entangle in their wanton wiles

The voyagers come from continents and isles.

VI.

As on he passed, the Arcadian god admires,

Between tall sculptured piles that line the way,

Cool lymph in crystal jets, and sheaf-like spires,

From marble gorges spouted ceaselessly;

Whose myriad drops with charmed eyes he sees,

Bestrode by interwoven Irides.

VII.

Weary at length of wandering here and there,

His eyes sore dazzled by the eternal gleam

Of sun-kissed marbles, on a shady stair,

Near which uprose a fountain’s liquid sheen,

Pan sought repose, and heard a minstrel tell

In plastic verse of Here’s potent spell;

VIII.

Which, on a mountain-couch of vernal flowers,

Lulled by its might the Thunderer to sleep,

Who lay, regardless of the ebbing powers

Of Ilion’s champion, locked in swoonings deep.

Here, while he sat, a sudden silence fell

On all the street, that, quiet as the cell

IX.

Of Indian saint by Ganges’ marge afar,

Within a moment’s interval became;

For on a rose-ensanguined ivory car,

Of swanlike shape, and lovelier than the wain

Of Dawn, came Laïs, Eros’ idol fair,

Delicious, soft, and warm as vernal air.

A golden tiar begirt her forehead white,

Which flashed with many an orient amethyst,

With jacinth, pearl, and opal’s fire-red light;

Each gem the guerdon of a burning kiss

On Asian lords bestowed, who wore the crowns

Of those voluptuous Ionian towns—

XI.

Miletus, Smyrna, and the rest, that line

The eastern margin of the central sea;

Whence many a burnished galley o’er the brine

To Corinth crosses, drawn by witchery

Of laughter-swimming eyes and rosy lips,

Wherein she doth all other towns eclipse.

XII.

Slow rolled proud Laïs’ wheels—while here and there,

On warrior, bard, and sage, who spell-bound stood,

She showered familiar smiles, that flushed the air,

And thrilled each heart in all the multitude;

Her partial glances raised a prouder glow

Than all the wreaths that glory could bestow.

XIII.

Pan, at her presence, felt his cloud-robe turn

Fire-red, like vapors round the sinking sun;

Not thus for dreamy Dian did he burn;

And how a kiss might from her lips be won,

He of his horn-clad brain assistance sought,

Which, full of schemes, struck out a subtle thought.

XIV.

For swift as light, from some far river’s meads,

A hornet flying drove his venomed sting

Into the foreheads of her glossy steeds;

They, bolting upward, made a sudden spring,

That snapped, like gossamer threads, each leathern trace,

And dashed the chariot on a statue’s base.

XV.

By arms invisible the falling dame

Was held unwounded in the yielding air;

And on her brow there fell a fiery rain

Of kisses, caught from lips in ambush there;

Then gently to the earth her form declined,

While rose a reed-like murmur on the wind.