The Death-Wake | Page 8

fair champion moon,?That call'd her chariot of unearthly mist,?Toward her citadel of amethyst.
A curse! a curse! a lonely man is there?By the deep waters, with a burden fair?Clasp'd in his wearied arms--'Tis he; 'tis he?The brain-struck Julio, and Agathè!?His cowl is back--flung back upon the breeze,?His lofty brow is haggard with disease,?As if a wild libation had been pour'd?Of lightning on those temples, and they shower'd?A dismal perspiration, like a rain,?Shook by the thunder and the hurricane!
He dropt upon a rock, and by him placed,?Over a bed of sea-pinks growing waste,?The silent ladye, and he mutter'd wild,?Strange words, about a mother, and no child.?"And I shall wed thee, Agathè! although?Ours be no God-blest bridal--even so!"?And from the sand he took a silver shell,?That had been wasted by the fall and swell?Of many a moon-borne tide into a ring--?A rude, rude ring; it was a snow-white thing,?Where a lone hermit limpet slept and died,?In ages far away. "Thou art a bride,?Sweet Agathè! Wake up; we must not linger."?He press'd the ring upon her chilly finger,?And to the sea-bird, on its sunny stone,?Shouted, "Pale priest! thou liest all alone?Upon thy ocean altar, rise away?To our glad bridal!" and its wings of gray?All lazily it spread, and hover'd by?With a wild shriek--a melancholy cry!?Then swooping slowly o'er the heaving breast?Of the blue ocean, vanish'd in the west.
And Julio is chanting to his bride,?A merry song of his wild heart, that died?On the soft breeze through pinks beside the sea,?All rustling in their beauty gladsomely.
SONG
A rosary of stars, love! we'll count them as we go?Upon the laughing waters, that are wandering below,?And we'll o'er the pearly moon-beam, as it lieth in the sea, In beauty and in glory, like a shadowing of thee!
A rosary of stars, love! a prayer as we glide,?And a whisper in the wind, and a murmur on the tide!?And we'll say a fair adieu to the flowers that are seen, With shells of silver sown in radiancy between.
A rosary of stars, love! the purest they shall be,?Like spirits of pale pearls, in the bosom of the sea;?Now help thee, virgin mother! with a blessing as we go, Upon the laughing waters, that are wandering below!
He lifted the dead girl, and is away?To where a light boat, in its moorings lay,?Like a sea-cradle, rocking to the hush?Of the nurse waters. With a frantic rush?O'er the wild field of tangles he hath sped,?And through the shoaling waves that fell and fled?Upon the furrow'd beach.
The snowy sail?Is hoisted to the gladly gushing gale,?That bosom'd its fair canvass with a breast?Of silver, looking lovely to the west;?And at the helm there sits the wither'd one,?Gazing and gazing on the sister nun,?With her fair tresses floating on his knee--?The beautiful, death-stricken Agathè!
Fast, fast, and far away, the bark hath stood?Out toward the great heaving solitude,?That gurgled in its deeps, as if the breath?Went through its lungs, of agony and death!
The sun is lost within the labyrinth?Of clouds of purple and pale hyacinth,?That are the frontlet of the sister Sky?Kissing her brother Ocean; and they lie?Bathing in blushes, till the rival queen?Night, with her starry tiar, floateth in--?A dark and dazzling beauty! that doth draw?Over the light of love a shade of awe?Most strange, that parts our wonder not the less?Between her mystery and loveliness!
And she is there, that is a pyramid?Whereon the stars, the statues of the dead,?Are imaged over the eternal hall,?A group of radiances majestical!?And Julio looks up, and there they be,?And Agathè, and all the waste of Sea,?That slept in wizard slumber, with a shroud?Of night flung o'er his bosom, throbbing proud?Amid its azure pulses; and again?He dropt his blighted eye-orbs, with a strain?Of mirth upon the ladye:--Agathè!?Sweet bride! be thou a queen, and I will lay?A crown of sea-weed on thy royal brow;?And I will twine these tresses, that are now?Floating beside me, to a diadem;?And the sea foam will sprinkle gem on gem,?And so will the soft dews. Be thou the queen?Of the unpeopled waters, sadly seen?By star-light, till the yet unrisen moon?Issue, unveiled, from her anderoon,?To bathe in the sea fountains: let me say,?"Hail--hail to thee! thrice hail, my Agathè!"
The warrior world was lifting to the bent?Of his eternal brow magnificent,?The fiery moon, that in her blazonry?Shone eastward, like a shield. The throbbing sea?Felt fever on his azure arteries,?That shadow'd them with crimson, while the breeze?Fell faster on the solitary sail.?But the red moon grew loftier and pale,?And the great ocean, like the holy hall,?Where slept a seraph host maritimal,?Was gorgeous, with wings of diamond?Fann'd over it, and millions beyond?Of tiny waves were playing to and fro,?All musical, with an incessant flow?Of cadences, innumerably heard?Between the shrill notes of a hermit bird,?That held a solemn paean to the moon.
A few devotional fair clouds were soon?Breathed o'er the living countenance