The Death-Wake | Page 9

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 of Heaven,
And under the great galaxies were driven

Of stars that group'd together, and they went
Like voyagers along the
firmament,
And grew to silver in the blessed light
Of the moon
alchymist. It was not night,
Not the dark deathly shadow, that falls
o'er
The eye-lid like a curse, but far before
In splendour, struggling
through a fall of gloom,
In many a myriad gushes, that do come

Direct from the eternal stars beyond,
Like holy fountains pouring
diamond!
A sail! awake thee, Julio! a sail!
And be not bending to thy trances
pale.
But he is gazing on the moonlit brow
Of his dead Agathè, and
fondly now,
The light is silvering her bloodless face
And the cold
grave-clothes. There is loveliness
As in a marble image, very bright!

But stricken with a phantasy of light
That is not given to the mortal
hue,
To life and breathing beauty: and she too
Is more of the
expressless lineament,
Than of the golden thoughts that came and
went
Over her features like a living tide
No while before.
A sail is on the wide
And moving waters, and it draweth nigh
Like

a sea-cloud. The elfin billows fly
Before it, in their armories
enthrall'd
Of radiant and moon-breasted emerald;
And many is the
mariner that sees
The lone boat in the melancholy breeze,
Waving
her snowy canvass, and anon
Their stately vessel with a gallant run

Crowds by in all her glory; but the cheer
Of men is pass'd into a
sudden fear,
And whisperings, and shakings of the head--
The
moon was streaming on a virgin dead,
And Julio sat over her insane,

Like a sea demon! O'er and o'er again,
Each cross'd him, as the
stately vessel stood
Far out into the murmuring solitude!
But Julio saw not; he only heard
A rushing, like the passing of a bird,

And felt him heaving on the foam, that flew
Along the startled
billows; and he knew
Of a strange sail, by broken oaths that fell

Beside him, on the coming of the swell.
They knew thou wert a queen, my royal bride!
And made obeisance
at thy holy side.
They saw thee, Agathè! and go to bring
Fair
worshippers, and many a poet-king,
To utter music at thy pearly
feet.--
Now, wake thee! for the moonlight cometh sweet,
To visit in
thy temple of the sea;
Thy sister moon is watching over thee!
And
she is spreading a fair mantle of
Pure silver, in thy lonely palace,
love!--
Now, wake thee! for the sea-bird is aloof,
In solitude, below
the starry roof;
And on its dewy plume there is a light
Of palest
splendour, o'er the blessed night.
Thy spirit, Agathè!--and yet, thou
art
Beside me, and my solitary heart
Is throbbing near to thee: I
must not feel
The sweet notes of thy holy music steal
Into my
feverous and burning brain,--
So wake not! and I'll hush thee with a
strain
Of my wild fancy, till thou dream of me,

And I be loved as I
have loved thee:--
SONG
'Tis light to love thee living, girl, when hope is full and fair, In the
springtide of thy beauty, when there is no sorrow there-- No sorrow on

thy brow, and no shadow on thy heart!
When, like a floating sea-bird,
bright and beautiful thou art!
'Tis light to love thee living, girl--to see thee ever so, With health, that,
like a crimson flower, lies blushing in the snow; And thy tresses falling
over, like the amber on the pearl-- Oh! true it is a lightsome thing, to
love thee living, girl!
But when the brow is blighted, like a star of morning tide, And faded is
the crimson blush upon the cheek beside;
It is to love, as seldom love,
the brightest and the best, When our love lies like a dew upon the one
that is at rest.
Because of hopes, that, fallen, are changing to despair, And the heart is
always dreaming on the ruin that is there, Oh, true! 'tis weary, weary, to
be gazing over thee,
And the light of thy pure vision breaketh never
upon me!
He lifts her in his arms, and o'er and o'er,
Upon the brow of chilliness
and hoar,
Repeats a silent kiss;--along the side
Of the lone bark, he
leans that pallid bride,
Until the waves do image her within
Their
bosom, like a spectre--'Tis a sin
Too deadly to be shadow'd or
forgiven,
To do such mockery in the sight of Heaven!
And bid her
gaze into the startled