Gaining the bark, still not a human eye58
Peers through the noiseless solitary shrouds;
So, for the crew's return, all patiently
He sate him down, and watch'd the phantom clouds
Flit to and fro, where o'er the slopes afar
Reign storm-girt Arcas,[10] and the Mother Star.
Thus sleep stole o'er him, mercy-hallow'd sleep;59
His own loved Ægle, lovelier than of old,
Oh, lovelier far—shone from the azure deep—
And like the angel dying saints behold,
Bent o'er his brow, and with ambrosial kiss
Breathed on his soul her own pure spirit-bliss.
"Never more grieve for me," the Vision said,60
"Behold how beautiful thy bride is now!
Who to yon Heaven from heathen Hades led
Me, thine Immortal? Mourner, it was thou!
Why shouldst thou mourn? In the empyreal clime
We know no severance, for we own no time.
"Both in the Past and Future circumfused,61
We live in each;—all life's more happy hours
Bloom back for us;—all prophet Fancy mused
Fairest in days to come, alike are ours:
With me not yet—I ever am with thee,
Thy presence flows through my eternity.
"Think thou hast bless'd the earth, and oped the heaven62
To her baptized, reborn, through thy dear love,—
In the new buds that bloom for thee, be given
The fragrance of the primal flower above!
In Heaven we are not jealous!—But in aught
That heals remembrance and revives the thought,
"That makes the life more beautiful, we bind63
Those who survive us in a closer chain;
In all that glads we feel ourselves enshrined;
In all that loves, our love but lives again."
Anew she kiss'd his brow, and at her smile
Night and Creation brighten'd! He the while,
Stretch'd his vain arms, and clasp'd the mocking air,64
And from the rapture woke![11]—All fiercely round
Group savage forms, amidst the lurid glare
Of lifted torches, red; fierce tongues resound,
Discordant, clamouring hoarse—as birds of prey
Scared by man's footstep in some desolate bay.
Mild through the throng a bright-hair'd Virgin came,65
And the roar hush'd;—while to the Virgin's breast
Soft-cooing fled the Dove. His own great name
Rang through the ranks behind; quick footsteps press'd
(As through arm'd lines a warrior) to the spot,
And to the King knelt radiant Lancelot.
Here for a while the wild and fickle song66
Leaves the crown'd Seeker of the Silver Shield;
Thy fates, O Gawaine, done to grievous wrong
By the black guide perfidious, be reveal'd,
Nearing, poor Knight, the Cannibalian shrine,
Where Freya scents thee, and prepares to dine.
Left by a bride, and outraged by a raven,67
One friend still shared the injured captive's lot;
For, as the vessel left the Cymrian haven,
The faithful hound, whom he had half forgot,
Swam to the ship, clomb up the sides on board,
Snarl'd at the Danes, and nestled by his lord.