15.
‘The misery of a madness slow and creeping,
Which made the earth seem fire, the sea seem air,
And the white clouds of noon which oft were sleeping,
In the blue heaven so beautiful and fair,
Like hosts of ghastly shadows hovering there; _2960
And the sea-eagle looked a fiend, who bore
Thy mangled limbs for food!—Thus all things were
Transformed into the agony which I wore
Even as a poisoned robe around my bosom’s core.
16.
‘Again I knew the day and night fast fleeing, _2965
The eagle, and the fountain, and the air;
Another frenzy came—there seemed a being
Within me—a strange load my heart did bear,
As if some living thing had made its lair
Even in the fountains of my life:—a long _2970
And wondrous vision wrought from my despair,
Then grew, like sweet reality among
Dim visionary woes, an unreposing throng.
17.
‘Methought I was about to be a mother—
Month after month went by, and still I dreamed _2975
That we should soon be all to one another,
I and my child; and still new pulses seemed
To beat beside my heart, and still I deemed
There was a babe within—and, when the rain
Of winter through the rifted cavern streamed, _2980
Methought, after a lapse of lingering pain,
I saw that lovely shape, which near my heart had lain.
18.
‘It was a babe, beautiful from its birth,—
It was like thee, dear love, its eyes were thine,
Its brow, its lips, and so upon the earth _2985
It laid its fingers, as now rest on mine
Thine own, beloved!—’twas a dream divine;
Even to remember how it fled, how swift,
How utterly, might make the heart repine,—
Though ’twas a dream.’—Then Cythna did uplift _2990
Her looks on mine, as if some doubt she sought to shift:
19.
A doubt which would not flee, a tenderness
Of questioning grief, a source of thronging tears;
Which having passed, as one whom sobs oppress
She spoke: ‘Yes, in the wilderness of years _2995
Her memory, aye, like a green home appears;
She sucked her fill even at this breast, sweet love,
For many months. I had no mortal fears;
Methought I felt her lips and breath approve,—
It was a human thing which to my bosom clove. _3000
20.
‘I watched the dawn of her first smiles; and soon
When zenith stars were trembling on the wave,
Or when the beams of the invisible moon,
Or sun, from many a prism within the cave
Their gem-born shadows to the water gave, _3005
Her looks would hunt them, and with outspread hand,
From the swift lights which might that fountain pave,
She would mark one, and laugh, when that command
Slighting, it lingered there, and could not understand.
21.
‘Methought her looks began to talk with me; _3010
And no articulate sounds, but something sweet
Her lips would frame,—so sweet it could not be,
That it was meaningless; her touch would meet
Mine, and our pulses calmly flow and beat
In response while we slept; and on a day _3015
When I was happiest in that strange retreat,
With heaps of golden shells we two did play,—
Both infants, weaving wings for time’s perpetual way.
22.
‘Ere night, methought, her waning eyes were grown
Weary with joy, and tired with our delight, _3020
We, on the earth, like sister twins lay down
On one fair mother’s bosom:—from that night
She fled,—like those illusions clear and bright,
Which dwell in lakes, when the red moon on high
Pause ere it wakens tempest;—and her flight, _3025
Though ’twas the death of brainless fantasy,
Yet smote my lonesome heart more than all misery.
23.
‘It seemed that in the dreary night the diver
Who brought me thither, came again, and bore
My child away. I saw the waters quiver, _3030
When he so swiftly sunk, as once before:
Then morning came—it shone even as of yore,
But I was changed—the very life was gone
Out of my heart—I wasted more and more,
Day after day, and sitting there alone, _3035
Vexed the inconstant waves with my perpetual moan.
24.
‘I was no longer mad, and yet methought
My breasts were swoln and changed:—in every vein
The blood stood still one moment, while that thought
Was passing—with a gush of sickening pain _3040
It ebbed even to its withered springs again:
When my wan eyes in stern resolve I turned
From that most strange delusion, which would fain
Have waked the dream for which my spirit yearned
With more than human love,—then left it unreturned. _3045