divine !

Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,

Only to hear were sweet, stretch'd out beneath the pine.

VIII.

The Lotos blooms below the barren peak : The Lotos blows by every winding creek All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone:

Thro' every hollow cave and alley lone Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotus-dust is blown.

We have had enough of action, and of motion we,

Roll'd to starboard, roll'd to larboard, when the surge was seething free, Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea. Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,

In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined

On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind.

For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurl'd

Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curl'd Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world: Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,

Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands, Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and

sinking ships, and praying hands. But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong,

Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong;

Chanted from an ill-used race of men that

cleave the soil,

asphodel.

Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore

Than labor in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;

O rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.

Those far-renowned brides of ancient song Peopled the hollow dark, like burning stars,

And I heard sounds of insult, shame, and wrong,

And trumpets blown for wars;

And clattering flints batter'd with clanging hoofs:

And

And I saw crowds in column'd sanctuaries;

forms that pass'd at windows and

on roofs

Of marble palaces;

Corpses across the threshold; heroes tall Dislodging pinnacle and parapet

And high shrine-doors burst thro' with heated blasts

That run before the fluttering tongues of fire;

White surf wind-scatter'd over sails and masts,

And ever climbing higher;

Squadrons and squares of men in brazen plates,

Scaffolds, still sheets of water, divers

woes,

grates,

And hushed seraglios.

So shape chased shape as swift as, when to land

Bluster the winds and tides the selfsame way,

Crisp foam-flakes scud along the level sand,

Torn from the fringe of spray.

I started once, or seem'd to start in pain, Resolved on noble things, and strove to speak,

And flushes all the cheek.

And once my arm was lifted to hew down

A cavalier from off his saddle-bow, That bore a lady from a leaguer'd town; And then, I know not how,

All those sharp fancies, by down-lapsing thought

Stream'd onward, lost their edges, and did creep

Roll'd on each other, rounded, smooth'd, and brought

Into the gulfs of sleep.

At last methought that I had wander'd far In an old wood: fresh-wash'd in coolest dew

The maiden splendors of the morning star Shook in the stedfast blue.

Enormous elmtree-boles did stoop and lean Upon the dusky brushwood underneath

Their broad curved branches, fledged with clearest green,

New from its silken sheath.

The dim red morn had died, her journey done,

And with dead lips smiled at the twilight plain,

Half-fall'n across the threshold of the sun,
Never to rise again.

There was no motion in the dumb dead air,
Not any song of bird or sound of rill;
Gross darkness of the inner sepulchre
Is not so deadly still

The times when I remember to have been Joyful and free from blame.

And from within me a clear under-tone Thrill'd thro' mine ears in that unblissful clime,

"Pass freely thro': the wood is all thine

own,

Until the end of time."

At length I saw a lady within call,

Stiller than chisell'd marble, stand-
ing there;

A daughter of the gods, divinely tall,
And most divinely fair.

Her loveliness with shame and with surprise

Froze my swift speech: she turning on my face

The star-like sorrows of immortal eyes, Spoke slowly in her place.

"I had great beauty: ask thou not my

name:

No one can be more wise than destiny. Many drew swords and died. Where'er

I came

I brought calamity."

"No marvel, sovereign lady: in fair field Myself for such a face had boldly died,"

I answer'd free; and turning I appeal'd To one that stood beside.

But she, with sick and scornful looks

To

averse,

her full height her stately stature draws ; youth," she said,

with a curse :

66 was blasted

This woman was the cause.

"I was cut off from hope in that sad place, Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears:

My father held his hand upon his face; I, blinded with my tears,

"Still strove to speak: my voice was thick with sighs

The

As in a dream. Dimly I could descry stern black-bearded kings with

wolfish eyes,

Waiting to see me die.

afloat;

The crowds, the temples, waver'd, and

the shore;

The bright death quiver'd at the victim's throat;

Touch'd; and I knew no more.'

Whereto the other with a downward brow: "I would the white cold heavy

plunging foam, 'Whirl'd by the wind, had roll'd me deep below,

Then when I left my home."

Her slow full words sank thro' the silence drear,

As thunder-drops fall on a sleeping

sea:

Sudden I heard a voice that cried, "Come here,

That I may look on thee."

I turning saw, throned on a flowery rise, One sitting on a crimson scarf unroll'd;

A queen, with swarthy cheeks and bold black eyes,

Brow-bound with burning gold.

She, flashing forth a haughty smile, began:

and lit

Lamps which outburn'd Canopus.
O my life

In Egypt! O the dalliance and the wit,
The flattery and the strife,

"And the wild kiss, when fresh from war's alarms,

My Hercules, my Roman Antony, My mailed Bacchus leapt into my arms,

Contented there to die!

"And there he died: and when I heard my name

Sigh'd forth with life I would not brook my fear

Of the other: with a worm I balk'd his fame.

What else was left? look here!"

(With that she tore her robe apart, and half

The polish'd argent of her breast to sight

Laid bare. Thereto she pointed with a laugh,

Showing the aspick's bite.)

"I died a Queen. The Roman soldier found

a man.

Once, like the moon, I made

“The ever-shifting currents of the blood According to my humorebb and flow. I have no men to govern in this wood : That makes my only woe.

"Nay-yet it chafes me that I could not bend

One will; nor tame and tutor with

mine eye

That dull cold-blooded Cæsar. Prythee, friend,

Where is Mark Antony?

"The man, my lover, with whom I rode sublime

On Fortune's neck: we sat as God by God:

The Nilus would have risen before his time And flooded at our nod.

Me lying dead, my crown about my brows, name for ever!-lying robed and crown'd,

Worthy a Roman spouse."

Her warbling voice, a lyre of widest range Struck by all passion, did fall down From tone to tone, and glided thro' all and glance change

Of liveliest utterance.

When she made pause I knew not for delight;

Because with sudden motion from the ground

She raised her piercing orbs, and fill'd with light

The interval of sound.

Still with their fires Love tipt his keenest darts;

As once they drew into two burning rings

All beams of Love, melting the mighty hearts

Of captains and of kings.

the lawn,

And singing clearer than the crested bird,

That claps his wings at dawn.

"The torrent brooks of hallow'd Israel From craggy hollows pouring, late

and soon,

did move