Here, while both man and steeds the welcome rest71
Under the sacred roof of Christ receive,
We turn once more to Ægle and her guest.
Lo! the sweet valley in the flush of eve!
Lo! side by side, where through the rose-arcade,
Steals the love star, the hero and the maid!
Silent they gaze into each other's eyes,72
Stirring the inmost soul's unquiet sleep;
So pierce soft star-beams, blending wave and skies,
Some holy fountain trembling to its deep!
Bright to each eye each human heart is bare,
And scarce a thought to start an angel there!
Love to the soul, whate'er the harsh may say,73
Is as the hallowing Naïad to the well—
The linking life between the forms of clay
And those ambrosia nurtures; from its spell
Fly earth's rank fogs, and Thought's ennobled flow
Shines with the shape that glides in light below.
Seize, O beloved, the blooms the Hour allows!74
Alas, but once can flower the Beautiful!
Hark, the wind rustles through the trembling boughs,
And the stem withers while the buds ye cull!
Brief though the prize, how few in after hours
Can say, "at least the Beautiful was ours!"
Two loves (and both divine and pure) there are;75
One by the roof-tree takes its root for ever,
Nor tempests rend, nor changeful seasons mar—
It clings the stronger for the storm's endeavour;
Beneath its shade the wayworn find their rest,
And in its boughs the calm bird builds its nest.
But one more frail (in that more prized, perchance),76
Bends its rich blossoms over lonely streams
In the untrodden ways of wild Romance,
On earth's far confines, like the Tree of Dreams,[13]
Few find the path;—O bliss! O woe to find!
What bliss the blossom!—ah! what woe the wind!
Oh, the short spring!—the eternal winter!—All77
Branch,—stem all shatter'd; fragile as the bloom!
Yet this the love that charms us to recall
Life's golden holiday before the tomb;
Yea! this the love which age again lives o'er,
And hears the heart beat loud with youth once more!
Before them, at the distance, o'er the blue78
Of the sweet waves which girt the rosy isle,
Flitted light shapes the inwoven alleys through:
Remotely mellow'd, musical the while,
Floated the hum of voices, and the sweet
Lutes chimed with timbrels to dim-glancing feet.
The calm swan rested on the breathless glass79
Of dreamy waters, and the snow-white steer
Near the opposing margin, motionless,
Stood, knee-deep, gazing wistful on its clear
And life-like shadow, shimmering deep and far,
Where on the lucid darkness fell the star.
Near them, upon its lichen-tinted base,80
Gleam'd one of those fair fancied images
Which art hath lost—no god of Idan race,
But the wing'd symbol which, by Caspian seas,
Or Susa's groves, its parable addrest
To the wild faith of Iran's Zendavest.[14]