Classic Poem

FROM A PAINTING BY GUIDO IN THE DULWICH GALLERY .

Her golden ringlets float around her form
In bright but wild profusion; some repose
In radiant clusters on her stainless breast,
Like the rich beams of summer's noonday sun
On rocks of alabaster; — others stream
(Pennons of beauty to a bark of love)
Loose to the ocean breezes. Her blue eyes,
Lit with intenser and more passionate thought
Than would beseem the wonted air of peace
That characters her countenance, dart forth
Glances of wilderment — it may be fear —
On the wild waves behind her; and she clings
Closer and closer to the stately neck
Of that imperial spurner of the spray —
That lord of lowing herds, the milk-white bull!

With unremitting speed the godlike brute,
Rejoicing in his glorious freight, moves on: —
What are the waves to him? they may not stay
His ardent course; — the warring winds may howl
With fitful violence round the vessel's prow,
And turn it from its track; — the whirlpool's depths
May draw it down to never-ending night;
But all their powers conjoined may ne'er prevail
Over this living, beauty-crested bark,
Which proudly dashes on — and on — and on —
To where the towers of Crete lift up their heads
Above the dark blue sea. With what a front —
A stern unyielding front — he stems the wave,
And strains each lusty nerve to gain the strand,
Now swelling on his sight!
Well may we 'count
The Boy-God's power omnipotent, since he
(And sure those witching fables that would prove
His force on human hearts, we half deem true)
Could thus stir up in an immortal's breast
His deep-pervading passion, and incite
Even the Almighty Jove to cede his form —
His own majestic seeming — and imbrute
His mighty spirit in a coil like this,
All for an earthly maiden.