Charmides and Other Poems | Page 7

there is a little reed
That
often whispers how a lovely boy
Lay with her once upon a grassy mead,
Who when
his cruel pleasure he had done
Spread wings of rustling gold and soared aloft into the
sun.
Be not so coy, the laurel trembles still
With great Apollo's kisses, and the fir
Whose
clustering sisters fringe the seaward hill
Hath many a tale of that bold ravisher
Whom
men call Boreas, and I have seen
The mocking eyes of Hermes through the poplar's
silvery sheen.
Even the jealous Naiads call me fair,
And every morn a young and ruddy swain
Woos
me with apples and with locks of hair,
And seeks to soothe my virginal disdain
By all
the gifts the gentle wood-nymphs love;
But yesterday he brought to me an
iris-plumaged dove
With little crimson feet, which with its store
Of seven spotted eggs the cruel lad

Had
stolen from the lofty sycamore
At daybreak, when her amorous comrade had
Flown
off in search of berried juniper
Which most they love; the fretful wasp, that earliest
vintager
Of the blue grapes, hath not persistency
So constant as this simple shepherd-boy
For
my poor lips, his joyous purity
And laughing sunny eyes might well decoy
A Dryad
from her oath to Artemis;
For very beautiful is he, his mouth was made to kiss;

His argent forehead, like a rising moon
Over the dusky hills of meeting brows,
Is
crescent shaped, the hot and Tyrian noon
Leads from the myrtle-grove no goodlier
spouse
For Cytheraea, the first silky down
Fringes his blushing cheeks, and his young
limbs are strong and brown;
And he is rich, and fat and fleecy herds
Of bleating sheep upon his meadows lie,
And
many an earthen bowl of yellow curds
Is in his homestead for the thievish fly
To
swim and drown in, the pink clover mead
Keeps its sweet store for him, and he can pipe
on oaten reed.
And yet I love him not; it was for thee
I kept my love; I knew that thou would'st come

To rid me of this pallid chastity,
Thou fairest flower of the flowerless foam
Of all
the wide AEgean, brightest star
Of ocean's azure heavens where the mirrored planets
are!
I knew that thou would'st come, for when at first
The dry wood burgeoned, and the sap
of spring
Swelled in my green and tender bark or burst
To myriad multitudinous
blossoming
Which mocked the midnight with its mimic moons
That did not dread the
dawn, and first the thrushes' rapturous tunes
Startled the squirrel from its granary,
And cuckoo flowers fringed the narrow lane,

Through my young leaves a sensuous ecstasy
Crept like new wine, and every mossy
vein
Throbbed with the fitful pulse of amorous blood,
And the wild winds of passion
shook my slim stem's maidenhood.
The trooping fawns at evening came and laid
Their cool black noses on my lowest
boughs,
And on my topmost branch the blackbird made
A little nest of grasses for his
spouse,
And now and then a twittering wren would light
On a thin twig which hardly
bare the weight of such delight.
I was the Attic shepherd's trysting place,
Beneath my shadow Amaryllis lay,
And
round my trunk would laughing Daphnis chase
The timorous girl, till tired out with play

She felt his hot breath stir her tangled hair,
And turned, and looked, and fled no more
from such delightful snare.
Then come away unto my ambuscade
Where clustering woodbine weaves a canopy

For amorous pleasaunce, and the rustling shade

Of Paphian myrtles seems to sanctify

The dearest rites of love; there in the cool
And green recesses of its farthest depth there
is pool,
The ouzel's haunt, the wild bee's pasturage,
For round its rim great creamy lilies float

Through their flat leaves in verdant anchorage,
Each cup a white-sailed golden-laden
boat
Steered by a dragon-fly, - be not afraid
To leave this wan and wave-kissed shore,
surely the place was made

For lovers such as we; the Cyprian Queen,
One arm around her boyish paramour,

Strays often there at eve, and I have seen
The moon strip off her misty vestiture
For
young Endymion's eyes; be not afraid,
The panther feet of Dian never tread that secret
glade.
Nay if thou will'st, back to the beating brine,
Back to the boisterous billow let us go,

And walk all day beneath the hyaline
Huge vault of Neptune's watery portico,
And
watch the purple monsters of the deep
Sport in ungainly play, and from his lair keen
Xiphias leap.
For if my mistress find me lying here
She will not ruth or gentle pity show,
But lay
her boar-spear down, and with austere
Relentless fingers string the cornel bow,
And
draw the feathered notch against her breast,
And loose the arched cord; aye, even now
upon the quest
I hear her hurrying feet, - awake, awake,
Thou laggard in love's battle! once at least

Let me drink deep of passion's wine, and slake
My parched being with the nectarous
feast
Which even gods affect! O come, Love, come,
Still we have time to reach the
cavern of thine azure home.'
Scarce had she spoken when the shuddering trees
Shook, and the leaves divided, and
the air
Grew conscious of a god, and the grey seas
Crawled backward, and