Lamia | Page 4

the maid?"
Whereat the star of
Lethe not delay'd
His rosy eloquence, and thus inquired:
"Thou
smooth-lipp'd serpent, surely high inspired!
Thou beauteous wreath,
with melancholy eyes,
Possess whatever bliss thou canst devise,

Telling me only where my nymph is fled, -
Where she doth breathe!"
"Bright planet, thou hast said,"
Return'd the snake, "but seal with
oaths, fair God!"
"I swear," said Hermes, "by my serpent rod,
And
by thine eyes, and by thy starry crown!"
Light flew his earnest words,
among the blossoms blown.
Then thus again the brilliance feminine:

"Too frail of heart! for this lost nymph of thine,
Free as the air,
invisibly, she strays
About these thornless wilds; her pleasant days


She tastes unseen; unseen her nimble feet
Leave traces in the grass
and flowers sweet;
From weary tendrils, and bow'd branches green,

She plucks the fruit unseen, she bathes unseen:
And by my power is
her beauty veil'd
To keep it unaffronted, unassail'd
By the
love-glances of unlovely eyes,
Of Satyrs, Fauns, and blear'd Silenus'
sighs.
Pale grew her immortality, for woe
Of all these lovers, and
she grieved so
I took compassion on her, bade her steep
Her hair in
weird syrops, that would keep
Her loveliness invisible, yet free
To
wander as she loves, in liberty.
Thou shalt behold her, Hermes, thou
alone,
If thou wilt, as thou swearest, grant my boon!"
Then, once
again, the charmed God began
An oath, and through the serpent's ears
it ran
Warm, tremulous, devout, psalterian.
Ravish'd, she lifted her
Circean head,
Blush'd a live damask, and swift-lisping said,
"I was
a woman, let me have once more
A woman's shape, and charming as
before.
I love a youth of Corinth - O the bliss!
Give me my
woman's form, and place me where he is.
Stoop, Hermes, let me
breathe upon thy brow,
And thou shalt see thy sweet nymph even
now."
The God on half-shut feathers sank serene,
She breath'd upon
his eyes, and swift was seen
Of both the guarded nymph near-smiling
on the green.
It was no dream; or say a dream it was,
Real are the
dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass
Their pleasures in a long
immortal dream.
One warm, flush'd moment, hovering, it might seem

Dash'd by the wood-nymph's beauty, so he burn'd;
Then, lighting
on the printless verdure, turn'd
To the swoon'd serpent, and with
languid arm,
Delicate, put to proof the lythe Caducean charm.
So
done, upon the nymph his eyes he bent,

Full of adoring tears and
blandishment,
And towards her stept: she, like a moon in wane,

Faded before him, cower'd, nor could restrain
Her fearful sobs,
self-folding like a flower
That faints into itself at evening hour:
But
the God fostering her chilled hand,
She felt the warmth, her eyelids
open'd bland,
And, like new flowers at morning song of bees,

Bloom'd, and gave up her honey to the lees.
Into the green-recessed
woods they flew;
Nor grew they pale, as mortal lovers do.

Left to herself, the serpent now began
To change; her elfin blood in
madness ran,
Her mouth foam'd, and the grass, therewith besprent,

Wither'd at dew so sweet and virulent;
Her eyes in torture fix'd, and
anguish drear,
Hot, glaz'd, and wide, with lid-lashes all sear,
Flash'd
phosphor and sharp sparks, without one cooling tear. The colours all
inflam'd throughout her train,
She writh'd about, convuls'd with
scarlet pain:
A deep volcanian yellow took the place
Of all her
milder-mooned body's grace;
And, as the lava ravishes the mead,

Spoilt all her silver mail, and golden brede;
Made gloom of all her
frecklings, streaks and bars,
Eclips'd her crescents, and lick'd up her
stars:
So that, in moments few, she was undrest
Of all her sapphires,
greens, and amethyst,
And rubious-argent: of all these bereft,

Nothing but pain and ugliness were left.
Still shone her crown; that
vanish'd, also she
Melted and disappear'd as suddenly;
And in the
air, her new voice luting soft,
Cried, "Lycius! gentle Lycius!" - Borne
aloft
With the bright mists about the mountains hoar
These words
dissolv'd: Crete's forests heard no more.
Whither fled Lamia, now a lady bright,
A full-born beauty new and
exquisite?
She fled into that valley they pass o'er
Who go to Corinth
from Cenchreas' shore;
And rested at the foot of those wild hills,

The rugged founts of the Peraean rills,
And of that other ridge whose
barren back
Stretches, with all its mist and cloudy rack,

South-westward to Cleone. There she stood
About a young bird's
flutter from a wood,
Fair, on a sloping green of mossy tread,
By a
clear pool, wherein she passioned
To see herself escap'd from so sore
ills,
While her robes flaunted with the daffodils.
Ah, happy Lycius! - for she was a maid
More beautiful than ever
twisted braid,
Or sigh'd, or blush'd, or on spring-flowered lea

Spread a green kirtle to the minstrelsy:
A virgin purest lipp'd, yet in
the lore
Of love deep learned to the red heart's core:
Not one hour
old, yet of sciential brain
To unperplex bliss from its neighbour pain;


Define their pettish limits, and estrange
Their points of contact,
and swift counterchange;
Intrigue with the specious chaos, and
dispart
Its most ambiguous atoms with sure art;
As though in
Cupid's college she had spent
Sweet days a lovely graduate, still
unshent,
And kept his rosy terms in idle languishment.
Why this fair creature chose so fairily
By the wayside to linger, we
shall