"Or give her me! I've tired, not filled mine eye With gazing. Let me press her dainty side, And die! A god's life on Olympus high Would I refuse, had I that girl for bride: But, since to me thy priestess is denied, Queen! let my home with such a one be gladdened." Thus spake one bachelor; another tried To smile and mock, as tho' he were not saddened, Hiding the secret wound, which all the time him maddened.
But thou, Leander, wouldst not hide the wound, And vex thy secret soul; but when Desire Surprised thee looking on the maid renowned, Tamed by the sudden darts of arrowy fire, Thou wouldst not live without her; fiercer, higher, Flamed love's hot torch, and pierced into thy marrow, Fed by her eye-beams. Loveliness, entire And blameless, sharper is than any arrow, Reaching the heart of man thro' channel sure tho' narrow.
The liquid fire from hers to his eye glides, Thence passing inward, dives into his breast: A sudden whirl of thoughts his mind divides; Amazement at her loveliness confest; Shame at himself soon caught; fear, love's unrest, And hope, impatient for love's recompense; But love to this delirious whirl gave zest, And furnished him with resolute impudence To venture, and outface that glorious innocence.
He turned on her askant his guileful eye, With speechless nods the damsel's mind assailing: She gladly saw his love, and silently Her sweet face ever and anon was veiling, And then with furtive nods her lover hailing, Bowed to him in return. He with delight Observed she saw, nor scorned his love. Then, trailing His robe of beams, the Day departed quite, (Leander watched the hour,) and rose the star of night.
Nor, when he saw the dark-robed mist, he lingered, But hastened boldly to the maid beloved, And with a sigh her rosy palm he fingered. But, drawing back her hand, the virgin moved In silence from th' intruder; unreproved, For he had seen her nods, and they were kind, He pulled her broidered robe, and, as behoved, He drew her gently to the gloom behind: She slowly followed him, as if against her mind.
And then with art and language feminine She threatened him:—"Why pullest me, lewd ranger? Pursue thy way, I beg, and leave me mine. To touch a priestess is a deed of danger; A virgin's bed is not for any stranger." She spake as virgins should; and yet she missed To frighten him, who reckoned soon to change her, When he her chiding heard; for well he wist That women chide the most when they would fain be kissed.
Kissing her polished, fragrant neck, he cries: "After the fairest Cytherea, fair! And after the most wise Athena, wise! For with Jove's daughters thee will I compare, And not with any dames that mortal are; Happy thy father! happy she who bore thee! But hear, and pardon, and accept my prayer; I come for love; for love I now implore thee; Perform love's ministry with me, for I adore thee.
"A virgin priestess to the Cyprian Queen! No grace in virgins Cytherea trows; To marriage only point her rites, I ween; Then if to her thy heart true service vows, Accept me for thy lover and thy spouse, Whom Eros hunted as a spoil for thee. As Hermes of the gold-wand (Fame allows) Led Hercules to serve Queen Omphale, So Cytherea now, not Hermes, leadeth me.
"The tale of Atalantis too is known, Who fled the couch of Prince Milanion, To keep her virgin flower; but wrath was shewn By Cypris, who, for scorn to marriage done, Him once she loved not, made her dote upon: Beware lest thou too anger her." Commenting Thus cunningly, the maiden's ear he won, And willing mind, to dulcet words consenting, To love's soft eloquence, that genders love, relenting.
In silence on the ground she fixed her eyes, And gently turned aside her glowing cheek, And shuffled her small feet, and modest-wise Drew round her graceful neck, and bosom sleek, Her robe yet closer. These are signs that speak; A virgin's silence ever means consent; The bitter-sweet of love was hers, and eke The glow of heart, hopeful, but not content, While yet the thoughts are lost in love's first wonderment.