The Witch of Atlas | Page 3

a cloud of summer dust.
24.?'And ye with them will perish, one by one;--?If I must sigh to think that this shall be,?If I must weep when the surviving Sun?Shall smile on your decay--oh, ask not me?To love you till your little race is run;?I cannot die as ye must--over me?Your leaves shall glance--the streams in which ye dwell?Shall be my paths henceforth, and so--farewell!'--
25.?She spoke and wept:--the dark and azure well?Sparkled beneath the shower of her bright tears,?And every little circlet where they fell?Flung to the cavern-roof inconstant spheres?And intertangled lines of light:--a knell?Of sobbing voices came upon her ears?From those departing Forms, o'er the serene?Of the white streams and of the forest green.
26.?All day the wizard lady sate aloof,?Spelling out scrolls of dread antiquity,?Under the cavern's fountain-lighted roof;?Or broidering the pictured poesy?Of some high tale upon her growing woof,?Which the sweet splendour of her smiles could dye?In hues outshining heaven--and ever she?Added some grace to the wrought poesy.
27.?While on her hearth lay blazing many a piece?Of sandal wood, rare gums, and cinnamon;?Men scarcely know how beautiful fire is--?Each flame of it is as a precious stone?Dissolved in ever-moving light, and this?Belongs to each and all who gaze upon.?The Witch beheld it not, for in her hand?She held a woof that dimmed the burning brand.
28.?This lady never slept, but lay in trance?All night within the fountain--as in sleep.?Its emerald crags glowed in her beauty's glance;?Through the green splendour of the water deep?She saw the constellations reel and dance?Like fire-flies--and withal did ever keep?The tenour of her contemplations calm,?With open eyes, closed feet, and folded palm.
29.?And when the whirlwinds and the clouds descended?From the white pinnacles of that cold hill,?She passed at dewfall to a space extended,?Where in a lawn of flowering asphodel?Amid a wood of pines and cedars blended,?There yawned an inextinguishable well?Of crimson fire--full even to the brim,?And overflowing all the margin trim.
30.?Within the which she lay when the fierce war?Of wintry winds shook that innocuous liquor?In many a mimic moon and bearded star?O'er woods and lawns;--the serpent heard it flicker?In sleep, and dreaming still, he crept afar--?And when the windless snow descended thicker?Than autumn leaves, she watched it as it came?Melt on the surface of the level flame.
31.?She had a boat, which some say Vulcan wrought?For Venus, as the chariot of her star;?But it was found too feeble to be fraught?With all the ardours in that sphere which are,?And so she sold it, and Apollo bought?And gave it to this daughter: from a car?Changed to the fairest and the lightest boat?Which ever upon mortal stream did float.
32.?And others say, that, when but three hours old,?The first-born Love out of his cradle lept,?And clove dun Chaos with his wings of gold,?And like a horticultural adept,?Stole a strange seed, and wrapped it up in mould,?And sowed it in his mother's star, and kept?Watering it all the summer with sweet dew,?And with his wings fanning it as it grew.
33.?The plant grew strong and green, the snowy flower?Fell, and the long and gourd-like fruit began?To turn the light and dew by inward power?To its own substance; woven tracery ran?Of light firm texture, ribbed and branching, o'er?The solid rind, like a leaf's veined fan--?Of which Love scooped this boat--and with soft motion?Piloted it round the circumfluous ocean.
34.?This boat she moored upon her fount, and lit?A living spirit within all its frame,?Breathing the soul of swiftness into it.?Couched on the fountain like a panther tame,?One of the twain at Evan's feet that sit--?Or as on Vesta's sceptre a swift flame--?Or on blind Homer's heart a winged thought,--?In joyous expectation lay the boat.
35.?Then by strange art she kneaded fire and snow?Together, tempering the repugnant mass?With liquid love--all things together grow?Through which the harmony of love can pass;?And a fair Shape out of her hands did flow--?A living Image, which did far surpass?In beauty that bright shape of vital stone?Which drew the heart out of Pygmalion.
36.?A sexless thing it was, and in its growth?It seemed to have developed no defect?Of either sex, yet all the grace of both,--?In gentleness and strength its limbs were decked;?The bosom swelled lightly with its full youth,?The countenance was such as might select?Some artist that his skill should never die,?Imaging forth such perfect purity.
37.?From its smooth shoulders hung two rapid wings,?Fit to have borne it to the seventh sphere,?Tipped with the speed of liquid lightenings,?Dyed in the ardours of the atmosphere:?She led her creature to the boiling springs?Where the light boat was moored, and said: 'Sit here!'?And pointed to the prow, and took her seat?Beside the rudder, with opposing feet.
38.?And down the streams which clove those mountains vast,?Around their inland islets, and amid?The panther-peopled forests whose shade cast?Darkness and odours, and a pleasure hid?In melancholy gloom, the pinnace passed;?By many a star-surrounded pyramid?Of icy crag cleaving the purple sky,?And caverns yawning