DANAË
“The days and months have grown to years, And I have dried my childish tears, And half forgotten why they ever ran; My soul is plighted to the sky, And we,—my wrinkled nurse and I,— What matter if we see no more of man? She wearies me with omens dire, My son foredoomed to kill my sire,— But sire and son are empty names to me. My love! I only rest awhile, To dream the beauty of thy smile. And only wake again to picture thee.” Thus sang the maiden of the brazen tower, And longed, unconscious, for the golden shower.
She ceased: for now began to fade The figure of that mighty shade, With loins and shoulders meet to sway the world; And awful through the gloom appeared His massive locks of hair and beard, Like clouds in lurid light of thunder curled. Yet, long as twilight glimmered there, She gazed upon a vision fair; His brow more beautiful than Parian stone, And nestling nearer like a dove, Soft on his lips she breathed her love, {142} And lit his eyes with lustre of her own. Then passion stung the maiden of the tower, And fast she panted for the golden shower.
She stood, with white arm fixed in air, And head thrown back, and streaming hair, “Oh, Lord of Dreams!” she cried, “dost thou behold?” Then thunderous music shook the cell, And, sliding through the rafters, fell On Danaë’s burning breast, three drops of gold. Her bosom thrilled—but not with pain:— Faster and brighter flowed the rain, And starred with light the chamber of the bride: Her cheek sank blushing on her hand, Her eyelids drooped, her silken band Unloosed itself,—and Jove was at her side. Black loured the earth around the captive’s tower, But Heaven embraced her in the golden shower.
I insert the poem here, as it constitutes the only trace in the pages of Once a Week of the matter with which we have to deal.
Before proceeding to detail the circumstances connected with the production and final suppression of the engraving, which prompted this passable set of verses, I shall endeavour to correct certain statements regarding it which have gained currency. In the Artist monograph on “The Art of Frederick Sandys,” in 1896, we find a few lines only given to the consideration of the {144} wood-engraving of “Danaë in the Brazen Chamber”; but in these few lines we have one undoubtedly incorrect statement, and another which is open to the gravest suspicion. The first is that the “Danaë” was engraved for The Hobby Horse in 1888; the second that it was drawn for Once a Week in 1860.
Danaë in the Brazen Chamber
Danaë in the Brazen Chamber