Classic Poem

I.

'Tis now the hour of mirth, the hour of love,
The hour of melancholy: Night, as vain
Of her full beauty, seems to pause above,
That all may look upon her ere it wane.

II.

The heavenly angel watched his subject star,
O'er all that's good and fair benignly smiling:
The sighs of wounded love he hears from far;
Weeps that he cannot heal, and wafts a hope beguiling.

III.

The nether earth looks beauteous as a gem:
High o'er her groves in floods of moonlight laving,
The towering palm displays his silver stem,
The while his plumy leaves scarce in the breeze are waving.

IV.

The nightingale among his roses sleeps;
The soft-eyed doe in thicket deep is sleeping;
The dark-green myrrh her tears of fragrance weeps;
And every odorous spike in limpid dew is steeping.

V.

Proud prickly cerea, now thy blossom 'scapes
Its cell, brief cup of light, and seems to say, —
" I am not for gross mortals: blood of grapes,
And sleep, for them! — Come, Spirits, while ye may! "

VI.

A silent stream winds darkly through the shade,
And slowly gains the Tigris, where 'tis lost.
By a forgotten prince of old 'twas made,
And, in its course, full many a fragment crost.

Of marble fairly carved; and by its side
Her golden dust the flaunting lotus threw
O'er her white sisters, throned upon the tide,
And queen of every flower that loves perpetual dew.

VII.

Gold-sprinkling lotus, theme of many a song
By slender Indian warbled to his fair!
Still tastes the stream thy rosy kiss, though long
Has been but dust the hand that placed thee there.

VIII.

The little temple where its relics rest
Long since has fallen: its broken columns lie
Beneath the lucid wave, and give its breast
A whitened glimmer as 'tis stealing by.

IX.

Here cerea, too, thy clasping mazes twine
The only pillar time has left erect:
Thy serpent arms embrace it as 'twere thine,
And roughly mock the beam it should reflect.

X.

An ancient prince, in happy madness blest,
Was wont to wander to this spot, and deemed
A water-nymph came to him, and carest
And loved him well: haply he only dreamed.

But on the spot a little dome arose,
And flowers were set that still in wildness bloom;
And the cold ashes that were him repose
Carefully shrined in this lone ivory tomb.

XI.

It is a place so strangely wild and sweet,
That spirits love to come; and now upon
A moonlight fragment Zophiil chose his seat,
In converse close with soft Phrairion,

XII.

Who on the moss beside him lies reclining,
O'erstrewn with leaves from full-blown roses shaken
By nightingales, that, on their branches twining,
The livelong night to love and music waken.

XIII.

Phrairion, gentle Sprite! nor force nor fire
He had to wake in others doubt or fear:
He'd hear a tale of bliss, and not aspire
To taste himself; 'twas meet for his compeer.

XIV.

No soul-creative in this being born
Its restless, daring, fond aspirings hid:
Within the vortex of rebellion drawn,
He joined the shining ranks — as others did.

XV.

Success but little had advanced; defeat
He thought so little, scarce to him were worse;
And, as he'd held in heaven inferior seat,
Less was his bliss, and lighter was his curse.

XVI.

He formed no plans for happiness; content
To curl the tendril, fold the bud; his pain
So light, he scarcely felt his banishment.
Zophiil, perchance, had held him in disdain;

But, formed for friendship, from his o'erfraught soul
'Twas such relief his burning thoughts to pour
In other ears, that oft the strong control
Of pride he felt them burst, and could restrain no more.

Zophiil was soft, but yet all flame: by turns
Love, grief, remorse, shame, pity, jealousy,
Each boundless in his breast, impels or burns:
His joy was bliss, his pain was agony.

And mild Phraerion was of heaven; and there
Nothing imperfect in its kind can be:
There every form is fresh, soft, bright, and fair,
Yet differing each with that variety —

Not least of miracles — which here we trace,
And wonder, and admire the cause that formed
So like, and yet so different every face,
Though of the selfsame clay, by the same process warmed.

XVII.

" Order is heaven's first law. " But that obeyed,
The planets fixed, the Eternal Mind, at leisure,
A vast profusion spread o'er all it made,
As if in endless change were found eternal pleasure.

XVIII.

Harmless Phrairion, formed to dwell on high,
Retained the looks that had been his above;
And his harmonious lip and sweet blue eye
Soothed the fallen seraph's heart, and changed his scorn to love;

Who, when he saw him in some garden pleasant,
Happy, because too little thought had he
To place in contrast past delight with present,
Had given his soul of fire for that inanity.

XIX.

But, oh! in him the Eternal had infused
The restless soul that doth itself devour,
Unless it can create; and fallen, misused,
But forms the vast design to mourn the feeble power.

XX.

In plenitude of love, the Power benign.
Nearer itself some beings fain would lift,
To share its joys, assist its vast design
With high intelligence: oh dangerous gift!

XXI.

Superior passion, knowledge, force, and fire
The glorious creatures took; but each, the slave
Of his own strength, soon burnt with wild desire,
And basely turned it 'gainst the hand that gave.

XXII.

But Zophiil, fallen sufferer, now no more
Thought of the past: the aspiring voice was mute
That urged him on to meet his doom before,
And all dissolved to love each varied attribute.

XXIII.

" Come, my Phrairion, give me an embrace! "
He said. " I hope a respite of repose
Like that respiring from thy sunny face, —
Even the peace thy guileless bosom knows.

XXIV.

" Rememberest thou that cave of Tigris, where
We went with fruits and flowers and meteor light,
And the fair creature, on the damp rock, there
Shivering and trembling so? Ah! well she might!

" False were my words, infernal my intent,
Then, as I knelt before her feet, and sued;
Yet still she blooms, uninjured, innocent,
Though now for seven long months by Zophiil watched and wooed!

XXV.

" Gentle Phrairion, 'tis for her I crave
Assistance: what I could have blighted then
'Tis now my only care to guard and save;
Companion, then, my airy flight again.

XXVI.

" Conduct me to those hoards of sweets and dews
Treasured — in haunts to all but thee unknown —
For favorite Sprites; teach me their power and use;
And whatso'er thou wilt of Zophiil be it done!

XXVII.

" Throughout fair Ecbatane the deeds I've wrought
Have cast such dread, that of all Sardius' train
I doubt if there be one, from tent or court,
Who'll try what 'tis to thwart a Spirit's love again.

XXVIII.

" My Egla, left in her acacia-grove,
Has learnt to lay aside that piteous fear
That sorrowed thee; and I but live to prove
A love for her as harmless as sincere.

XXIX.

" Inspirer of the arts of Greece, I charm
Her ear with songs she never heard before;
And many an hour of thoughtfulness disarm
With stories culled from that vague, wondrous lore.

" But seldom told to mortals, — arts on gems
Inscribed that still exist; but hidden so,
From fear of those who told, that diadems
Have passed from brows that vainly ached to know:

" Nor glimpse had mortal, save that those fair things,
Loved ages past like her I now adore,
Caught from their Angels some low whisperings,
Then told of them to such as dared not tell them more;

" But toiled in lonely nooks far from the eye
Of shuddering, longing men; then, buried deep,
Till distant ages bade their secrets lie,
In hopes that time might tell what their dread oaths must keep.

XXX.

" Egla looks on me doubtful, but amused;
Admires, but, trembling, dares not bid me stay:
Yet hour by hour her timid heart more used
Grows to my sight and words; and when a day.

I leave her, for my needful cares, at leisure
To muse upon and feel her lonely state,
At my returning, though restrained her pleasure,
There needs no Spirit's eye to see she does not hate.

XXXI.

" Oft have I looked in mortal hearts to know
How Love, by slow advances, knows to twine
Each fibre with his wreaths, then overthrow
At once each stern resolve. The maiden's mine!

" Yet have I never pressed her ermine hand,
Nor touched the living coral of her lip;
Though, listening to its tones, so sweet, so bland,
I've thought — oh impious thought! — who formed might sip!

XXXII.

" Most impious thought! Soul, I would rein thee in,
E'en as the quick-eyed Parthian quells his steeds;
But thou wilt start, and rise, and plunge in sin,
Till gratitude weeps out, and wounded reason bleeds.

XXXIII.

" Soul, what a mystery thou art! not one
Admires, or loves, or worships virtue, more
Than I; but passion hurls me on, till, torn
By keen remorse, I cool, to curse me and deplore.

XXXIV.

" But to my theme. Now in the stilly night
I hover o'er her fragrant couch, and sprinkle
Sweet dews about her, as she slumbers light, —
Dews sought with toil, beneath the pale stars' twinkle,

" From plants of secret virtue. All for lust
Too high and pure my bliss: her gentle breath
I hear, inhale, then weep (for, oh! she must;
That form is mortal, and must sleep in death).

XXXV.

" And oft, when nature pants, and the thick air,
Charged with foul particles, weighs sluggish o'er,
I breathe them all: that deep disgust I bear,
To leave a fluid pure and sane for her.

XXXVI.

" How dear is this employ! how innocent!
My soul's wild elements forbear their strife;
While, on these harmless caress pleased and intent,
I hope to save her beauty and her life.

" For many a rapturous year. But mortal ne'er
Shall hold her to his heart: to me confined,
Her soul must glow; nor ever shall she bear
That mortal fruit for which her form's designed.

XXXVII.

" No grosser blood, commingling with her own,
Shall ever make her mother. Oh! that mild,
Sad glance I love, that lip, that melting tone,
Shall ne'er be given to any mortal's child.

XXXVIII.

" But only for her Spirit shall she live,
Unsoiled by earth, fresh, chaste, and innocent;
And all a Spirit dares, or can, I'll give:
And sure I thus can make her far more blest,

" Framed as she is, than mortal love could do:
For more than mortal's to this creature given;
She's spirit more than half; her beauty's hue
Is of the sky, and speaks my native heaven.

XXXIX.

" But the night wanes: while all is bright above, "
He said, — and round Phrairion, nearer drawn,
One beauteous arm he flung, — " first to my love:
We'll see her safe; then to our task till dawn. "

XL.

'Tis often thus with Spirits, when retired
Afar from haunts of men: so they delight
To move in their own beauteous forms attired;
Though like thin shades or air they mock dull mortals' sight.

XLI.

Well pleased Phrairion answered that embrace;
All balmy he with thousand breathing sweets
From thousand dewy flowers. " But to what place, "
He said, " will Zophiil go? who danger greets.

" As if 'twere peace. The Palace of the Gnome,
Tahathyam, for our purpose most were meet;
But then the wave so cold and fierce, the gloom,
The whirlpools, rocks that guard that deep retreat!

" Yet there are fountains which no sunny ray
E'er danced upon; and drops come there at last
Which for whole ages, filtering all the way,
Through all the veins of earth in winding maze have passed.

XLII.

" These take from mortal beauty every stain,
And smooth the unseemly lines of age and pain,
With every wondrous efficacy rife;
Nay, once a Spirit whispered of a draught,
Of which a drop, by any mortal quaffed,
Would save for terms of years his feeble flickering life. "

XLIII.

" A Spirit told thee it would save from death
The being who should taste that drop? Is't so?
O dear Phrairion! for another breath
We have not time! Come, follow me: we'll go.

" And take one look; then guide me to the track
Of the Gnome's palace. There is not a blast
To stir the sea-flower: we will go and back
Ere morn. Nay, come: the night is wasting fast. "

XLIV.

" My friend, O Zophiil! only once I went:
Then, though bold Antreon bore me, such the pain,
I came back to the air so racked and spent,
That for a whole sweet moon I had no joy again.

XLV.

" What sayst thou? — back at morn? The night, a day
And half the night that follows it, alas!
Were time too little for that fearful way;
And then such depths, such caverns, we must pass! "

XLVI.

" Nothing, beloved Phrairion.! I know how
To brave such risks, and, first, the path will break,
As oft I've done in water-depths; and thou
Need'st only follow through the way I make. "

XLVII.

The soft Flower-Spirit shuddered, looked on high,
And from his bolder brother would have fled;
But then the anger kindling in that eye
He could not bear. So to fair Egla's bed
Followed, and looked; then, shuddering all with dread,
To wondrous realms unknown to men he led;

Continuing long in sunset course his flight,
Until for flowery Sicily he bent;
Then, where Italia smiled upon the night,
Between their nearest shores chose midway his descent.

XLVIII.

The sea was calm, and the reflected moon
Still trembled on its surface: not a breath
Curled the broad mirror. Night had past her noon.
How soft the air! how cold the depths beneath!

XLIX.

The Spirits hover o'er that surface smooth;
Zophiil's white arm around Phrairion twined
In fond caress, his tender fears to soothe;
While either's nearer wing the other's crossed behind.

L.

Well pleased, Phrairion half forgot his dread,
And first, with foot as white as lotus-leaf,
The sleepy surface of the waves essayed;
But then his smile of love gave place to drops of grief.

LI.

How could he for that fluid dense and chill
Change the sweet floods of air they floated on?
E'en at a touch his shrinking fibres thrill;
But ardent Zophiil, panting, hurries on,

And (catching his mild brother's tears, with lip
That whispered courage 'twixt each glowing kiss)
Persuades to plunge: limbs, wings, and locks they dip:
Whate'er the other's pains, the lover felt but bliss.

LII.

Quickly he draws Phrairion on, his toil
Even lighter than he hoped: some power benign
Seems to restrain the surges, while they boil
'Mid crags and caverns, as of his design.

Respectful. That black, bitter element,
As if obedient to his wish, gave way:
So, comforting Phrairion, on he went;
And a high craggy arch they reach at dawn of day,

Upon the upper world; and forced them through
That arch the thick, cold floods, with such a roar
That the bold Sprite receded, and would view
The cave before he ventured to explore.

LIII.

Then, fearful lest his frighted guide might part,
And not be missed, amid such strife and din,
He strained him closer to his burning heart,
And, trusting to his strength, rushed fiercely in.

LIV.

On, on, for many a weary mile they fare,
Till thinner grew the floods, long, dark, and dense,
From nearness to earth's core; and now a glare
Of grateful light relieved their piercing sense;

As when, above, the sun his genial streams
Of warmth and light darts mingling with the waves
Whole fathoms down; while, amorous of his beams,
Each scaly monstrous thing leaps from its slimy caves.

LV.

And now Phrairion, with a tender cry, —
Far sweeter than the land-bird's note, afar
Heard through the azure arches of the sky,
By the long-baffled, storm-worn mariner, —

" Hold, Zophiil! rest thee now: our task is done.
Tahathyam's realms alone can give this light!
Oh! though 'tis not the life-awakening sun,
How sweet to see it break upon such fearful night! "

LVI.

Clear grew the wave, and thin; a substance white
The wide expanding cavern floors and flanks:
Could one have looked from high, how fair the sight!
Like these the dolphin on Bahaman banks.

Cleaves the warm fluid in his rainbow tints,
While even his shadow on the sands below
Is seen, as through the waves he glides and glints
Where lies the polished shell, and branching corals grow.

LVII.

No massive gate impedes; the waves in vain
Might strive against the air to break or fall;
And, at the portal of that strange domain,
A clear, bright curtain seemed, or crystal wall.

LVIII.

The Spirits pass its bounds, but would not far
Tread the slant pavement, like unbidden guest;
The while, on either side, a bower of spar
Gave invitation for a moment's rest.

LIX.

And, deep in either bower, a little throne
Looked so fantastic, it were hard to know
If busy Nature fashioned it alone,
Or found some curious artist here below.

LX.

Soon spoke Phrairion: " Come, Tahathyam, come!
Thou knowest me well. I saw thee once to love,
And bring a guest to view thy sparkling dome,
Who comes full fraught with tidings from above. "

LXI.

Those gentle tones, angelically clear,
Past from his lips, in mazy depths retreating
(As if that bower had been the cavern's ear)
Full many a stadia far, and kept repeating.

As through the perforated rock they pass,
Echo to echo guiding them: their tone
(As just from the sweet Spirit's lip) at last
Tahathyam heard, where on a glittering throne.

He solitary sat. 'Twas many a year
Ere such delightful, grateful sound had blest
His pleasured sense; and with a starting tear,
Half joy, half grief, he rose to greet his guest:

LXII.

First sending through the rock an answering strain
To give both Spirits welcome where they wait,
And bid them haste; for he might strive in vain,
Half-mortal as he was, to reach that gate.

For many a day. But in the bower they hear
His bidding, and, from cumbrous matter free,
Arose, and to his princely home came near
With such spiritual strange velocity,

They met him, just as by his palace-door
The Gnome appeared, with all his band, elate
In the display of his resplendent store
To such as knew his father's high estate.

LXIII.

His sire, a Seraph, framed to dwell above,
Had lightly left his pure and blissful home
To taste the blandishments of mortal love;
And from that lowly union sprang the Gnome,

Tahathyam, first of his compeers, and best:
He looked like heaven, fair semi-earthly thing!
The rest were born of many a maid carest
After his birth, and chose him for their king.

LXIV.

He sat upon a car (and the large pearl
Once cradled in it glimmered, now, without)
Bound midway on two serpents' backs, that curl
In silent swiftness as he glides about.

LXV.

A shell, 'twas first in liquid amber wet;
Then, ere the fragrant cement hardened round,
All o'er with large and precious stones 'twas set
By skilful Tsaveven, or made or found.

LXVI.

The reins seemed pliant crystal (but their strength
Had matched his earthly mother's silken band),
And, flecked with rubies, flowed in ample length
Like sparkles o'er Tahathyam's beauteous hand.

LXVII.

The reptiles, in their fearful beauty, drew,
As if from love, like steeds of Araby:
Like blood of lady's lip their scarlet hue;
Their scales so bright and sleek, 'twas pleasure but to see.

LXVIII.

With open mouths, as proud to show the bit,
They raise their heads, and arch their necks (with eye
As bright as if with meteor fire 'twere lit),
And dart barbed tongues 'twixt fangs of ivory.

LXIX.

These, when the quick-advancing Sprites they saw
Furl their swift wings, and tread with angel grace
The smooth fair pavement, checked their speed in awe,
And glided far aside as if to give them space.

LXX.

The Gnome alighted with a pleasing pride,
And, in like guise, to meet the strangers bent
His courteous steps; the while on either side
Fierce Aishalat and Pshaämayim went;

LXXI.

Bright Ramaour followed on, in order meet;
Then Nahalcoul and Zotzaraven, best
Beloved, save Rouämasak of perfume sweet;
Then Talhazak and Marmorak: the rest,

A crowd of various use and properties,
Arranged to meet their monarch's wishes, vie
In seemly show to please the strangers' eyes,
And show what could be wrought without or soil or sky.

LXXII.

And Zophiil, though a Spirit, ne'er had seen
The like before; and, for he had to ask
A boon almost as dear as heaven, his mien
Was softness all. But 'twas a painful task.

To his impatience thus the time to wait
Due to such welcome, all his soul possest
With thoughts of Egla's lone, unguarded state;
While still he smiled, restraining his request.

LXXIII.

But fond Phrairion looked on him, and knew
How Zophiil suffered in this smooth delay:
So toward the princely Gnome he gently drew
To tell what lured them to these depths from day;

And said, " O king! this humble offering take:
How hard the task to bring, I need not tell:
Receive the poor, poor gift, for friendship's sake! "
Tahathyam took a yellow asphodel,

A deep-blue lotus, and a full moss-rose,
And then spoke out, " My Talhazak, come hither;
Look at these flowers, cropt where the sunbeam glows;
Crust them with diamond; never let them wither! "

LXXIV.

Then soon Phrairion: " Monarch, if 'tis truth
Thou hast (and that 'tis false sweet powers forfend!)
A draught whose power perpetuates life and youth,
Wilt thou bestow one drop upon my friend? "

LXXV.

Then Zophiil could no more withhold, but knelt,
And said, " O sovereign! happier far than I!
Born as thou wert, and in earth's entrails pent,
Though once I shared thy father's bliss on high.

LXXVI.

" One only draught! and if its power I prove, —
By thy sweet mother, to an Angel dear, —
Whate'er thou wilt, of all the world above,
Down to these nether realms I'll bring thee every year.

LXXVII.

" Thy tributary slave, I'll scorn the pain,
Though storms and rocks my feeling substance tear.
Tahathyam, let me not implore in vain:
Give me the draught, and save me from despair. "

LXXVIII.

Tahathyam paused, as if the bold request
He liked not to refuse, nor wished to grant;
Then, after much revolving in his breast, —
" What of this cup can an Immortal want?

LXXIX.

" My Angel sire for many a year endured
The vilest toils, deep hidden in the ground,
To mix this drink; nor was't at last procured
Till all he feared had happed: death's sleep profound.

" Seized my fair mother. I had shared her doom,
Mortal, like her he held than heaven more dear;
But by his chemic arts he robbed the tomb,
And fixed my solitary being here,

" As if to hide from the Life-giver's eye,
Of his presumptuous task, untried before,
The prized success, bidding the secret lie
Forever here. I never saw him more.

" When this was done. Yet what avails to live,
From age to age, thus hidden 'neath the wave?
Nor life nor being have I power to give;
And here, alas! are no more lives to save.

LXXX.

" For my loved father's sight in vain I pine.
Where is the bright Cephroniel? Spirit, tell
But how he fares, and what thou ask'st is thine. "
Fair hope from Zophiil's look that moment fell.

LXXXI.

The anxious Gnome observed, and soon bethought
How far his exile limited his will;
And, half divining why he so besought
Gift worthless save to man, continued still.

His speech: " Thou askest much: should I impart,
Spirit, to thee, what my great father fain
Would hide from heaven, and what, with all his art,
Even the second power desires in vain?

LXXXII.

" All long, but cannot touch: a sword of flame
Guards the life-fruit once seen. Yet, Spirit, know
There is a service: do what I shall name,
And let the danger threaten: I'll bestow.

LXXXIII.

" But first partake our humble banquet, spread
Within these rude walls, and repose a while, "
He said; and to the sparry portal led
And ushered his fair guests with hospitable smile.

LXXXIV.

High towered the palace and its massive pile,
Made dubious if of nature or of art,
So wild and so uncouth; yet all the while
Shaped to strange grace in every varying part.

LXXXV.

And groves adorned it, green in hue, and bright
As icicles about a laurel-tree;
And danced about their twigs a wondrous light:
Whence came that light so far beneath the sea?

LXXXVI.

Zophiil looked up to know; and, to his view,
Scarce seemed less vast than day's the vault that bent
In lofty arch, its soft, receding blue
As of the sky, with tender cloudlets sprent;

LXXXVII.

And in the midst an orb looked as 'twere meant
To shame the sun, it mimicked him so well.
But, ah! no quickening, grateful warmth it sent:
Cold as the rock beneath, the paly radiance fell.

LXXXVIII.

Within, from thousand lamps the lustre strays,
Reflected back from gems about the wall;
And from twelve dolphin shapes a fountain plays,
Just in the centre of the spacious hall.

LXXXIX.

But whether, in the sunbeam formed to sport,
These shapes once lived in suppleness and pride,
And then, to decorate this wondrous court,
Were stolen from the waves, and petrified,
Or moulded by some imitative Gnome,
And scaled all o'er with gems, they were but stone,
Casting their showers and rainbows 'neath the dome,
To man or angel's eye might not be known.

XC.

No snowy fleece in these sad realms was found;
Nor silken ball, by maiden loved so well:
But, ranged in lightest garniture around,
In seemly folds, a shining tapestry fell.

XCI.

And fibres of asbestos, bleached in fire,
And all, with pearls and sparkling gems o'erflecked,
Composed of that strange court the rich attire;
And such the cold, fair form of sad Tahathyam decked.

XCII.

Of marble white the table they surround,
And reddest coral decked each curious couch,
Which softly yielding to their forms was found,
And of a surface smooth and wooing to the touch.

XCIII.

Of sunny gold and silver like the moon
Here was no lack; but if the veins of earth,
Torn open by man's weaker-race, so soon
Supplied the alluring hoard, or here had birth,

That baffling, maddening, fascinating art,
Half told by Sprite most mischievous, that he
Might laugh to see men toil, then not impart,
The guests left uninquired: 'tis still a mystery.

XCIV.

Here were no flowers; but a sweet odor breathed
Of amber pure: a glistening coronal
Of various-colored gems each brow-inwreathed,
In form of garland, for the festival.

XCV.

All that the shell contains most delicate,
Of vivid colors, ranged and dressed with care,
Was spread for food, and still was in the state
Of its first freshness: if such creatures rare
Among cold rocks, so far from upper air,
By force of art might live and propagate,
Or were in hoards preserved, the Muse cannot declare.

XCVI.

But here, so low from the life-wakening sun,
However humble, life was sought in vain;
But, when by chance or gift or peril won,
'Twas prized and guarded well in this domain.

XCVII.

Four dusky Spirits, by a secret art
Taught by a father thoughtful of his wants,
Tahathyam kept for menial toil apart;
But only deep in sea were their permitted haunts.

XCVIII.

The banquet-cups, of many a hue and shape,
Bossed o'er with gems, were beautiful to view;
But, for the madness of the vaunted grape,
Their only draught was a pure, limpid dew,

To Spirits sweet: but these half-mortal lips
Longed for the streams that once on earth they quaffed;
And, half in shame, Tahathyam coldly sips,
And craves excuses for the temperate draught.

XCIX.

" Man tastes. " he said, " the grapes' sweet blood that streams
To steep his heart when pained: when sorrowing, he
In wild delirium drowns the sense, and dreams
Of bliss arise to cheat his misery. "

C.

Nor with their dews were any mingling sweets
Save those, to mortal lip, of poison fell:
No murmuring bee was heard in these retreats;
The mineral clod alone supplied their hydromel.

CI.

The Spirits, while they sat in social guise,
Pledging each goblet with an answering kiss,
Marked many a Gnome conceal his bursting sighs,
And thought death happier than a life like this.

CII.

But they had music: at one ample side
Of the vast area of that sparkling hall,
Fringed round with gems that all the rest outvied,
In form of canopy was seen to fall

The stony tapestry, over what at first
An altar to some deity appeared;
But it had cost full many a year to adjust
The limpid crystal tubes that 'neath upreared

Their different lucid lengths; and so complete
Their wondrous rangement, that a tuneful Gnome
Drew from them sounds more varied, clear, and sweet,
Than ever yet had rung in any earthly dome, —

CIII.

Loud, shrilly, liquid, soft: at that quick touch
Such modulation wooed his angel-ears,
That Zophiil wondered, started from his couch,
And thought upon the music of the spheres.

CIV.

Tahathyam marked; and, casting down the board
A wistful glance to one who shared his cheer,
" My Ragasycheon, " said he: at his word
A Gnome who knew what strains his prince would hear

CV.

Arose, like youth's soft dawn in form and face,
And than his many feres more lightly dressed;
Yet, unsurpassed in beauty and in grace,
Silken-haired Ragasycheon soon expressed

The feelings rising at his master's heart,
Choosing such tones as when the breezes sigh
Through some lone portico, or, far apart
From ruder sounds of mirth, in the deep forest die.

CVI.

Preluding low in notes that faint and tremble,
Swelling, awakening, dying, plaining deep;
While such sensations in the soul assemble
As make it pleasure to the eyes to weep.

CVII.

Is there a heart that ever loved in vain,
Though years have thrown their veil o'er all most dear,
That lives not each sensation o'er again
In sympathy with sounds like those that mingle here?

CVIII.

Still the fair Gnome's light hands the chime prolong;
And, while his utmost art the strain employs,
Cephroniel's softened son in gushing song
Poured forth his sad, deep sense of long-departed joys.

CIX.

SONG .

O my Phronema! how thy yellow hair
Was fragrant, when, by looks alone carest,
I felt it, wafted by the pitying air,
Float o'er my lips, and touch my fervid breast!

How my least word lent color to thy cheek!
And how thy gentle form would heave and swell,
As if the love thy heart contained would break
That warm pure shrine where Nature bade it dwell!

We parted: years are past, and thou art dead:
Never, Phronema, shall I see thee more!
One little ringlet of thy graceful head
Lies next my heart: 'tis all I may adore.

Torn from thy sight, to save a life of gloom,
Hopes unaccomplished, warmest wishes crost,
How can I longer bear my weary doom?
Alas! what have I gained for all I lost?

CX.

The music ceased, and from Tahathyam passed
The mournful ecstasy that lent it zest;
But tears adown his paly cheek fell fast,
And sprinkled the asbestos o'er his breast.

CXI.

Then thus: " If but a being half so dear
Could to these realms be brought, the slow distress
Of my long solitude were less severe,
And I might learn to bear my weariness.

CXII.

" There's a nepenthic draught, which the warm breath
Of mortals, when they quaff, keeps in suspense,
Giving the pale similitude of death
While thus chained up the quick perceptive sense.

" Haply 'twere possible. — But to the shrine,
Where like a god I guard Cephroniel's gift! "
Soon through the rock they wind: the draught divine
Was hidden by a veil the king alone might lift.

CXIII.

Cephroniel's son, with half-averted face
And faltering hand, that curtain drew, and showed,
Of solid diamond formed, a lucid vase;
And warm within the pure elixir glowed,

CXIV.

Bright red, like flame and blood (could they so meet),
Ascending, sparkling, dancing, whirling, ever
In quick perpetual movement; and of heat
So high, the rock was warm beneath their feet
(Yet heat in its intenseness hurtful never),

Even to the entrance of the long arcade
Which led to that deep shrine in the rock's breast,
As far as if the half-angel were afraid
To know the secret he himself possessed.

CXV.

Tahathyam filled a slip of spar with dread,
As if stood by and frowned some power divine;
Then trembling, as he turned to Zophiil, said,
" But for one service shalt thou call it thine.

CXVI.

" Bring me a wife, as I have named the way,
(I will not risk destruction save for love!)
Fair-haired and beauteous like my mother: say,
Plight me this pact; so shalt thou bear above,

" For thine own purpose, what has here been kept
Since bloomed the second age, to Angels dear.
Bursting from earth's dark womb, the fierce wave swept
Off every form that lived and loved; while here,
Deep hidden here, I still lived on and wept. "

CXVII.

Then Zophiil, pitying his emotion: " So
I promise, — nay, unhappy prince, I swear
By what I dare not utter, — I will go
And search, and one of all the loveliest bear

" Away, the while she sleeps, to be thy wife;
Give her nepenthic drink, and through the wave
Brave hell's worst pains to guard her gentle life.
Monarch! 'tis said: now give me what I crave!

CXVIII.

" Tahathyam Evanath, son of a sire
Who knew how love burns in a breast divine,
If this thy gift sustain, one vital fire,
Sigh not for things of earth; for all earth's best are thine. "

CXIX.

He took the spar: the high-wrought hopes of both
Forbade delay. So to the palace back
They came. Tahathyam faintly pressed, nor loath
Saw his fair guests depart to wend their watery track.