I KNOW not what it presages, A maiden wondrous fair, And combing her golden hair. The sailor shudders, as o'er him, The strain comes floating by; He only looks on high. Ah! round him the dark waves, flinging HENRY HEINE. (German.) Translation of CHRISTOPHER PEARSE CRANCH THE WATER LADY. I. ALAS, that moon should ever beam To show what man should never see!- II. I staid awhile, to see her throw Her tresses back, that all beset The fair horizon of her brow With clouds of jet. IV. I staid to watch, a little space, Her parted lips, if she would sing; The waters closed above her face With many a ring. V. And still I staid a little more-- I throw my flowers from the shore, VI. I know my life will fade away— I know that I must vainly pine; For I am made of mortal clay, But she 's divine! THOMAS HOOD. THE WATER FAY. THE night comes stealing o'er me, And clouds are on the sea; While the wavelets rustle before me With a mystical melody. A water-maid rose singing Before me, fair and pale; And snow-white breasts were springing, Like fountains, 'neath her veil. She kissed me and she pressed me, "Oh, thon need'st not alarm thee, That thus thy form I hold; For I only seek to warm me, And the night is black and cold." And down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seër in a trance, Did she look to Camelot. She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far awayThe lady of Shalott. Lying robed in snowy white, That loosely flew to left and right— She floated down to Camelot; And as the boat-head wound along, The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last songThe lady of Shalott Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Turned to towered Camelot; Under tower and balcony, A gleaming shape, she floated by— Out upon the wharfs they came, Who is this? and what is here? ALFRED TENNYSON COMUS, A MASK. THE PERSONS. The attendant SPIRIT, afterwards in the habit of THYRSIS. COMUS, with his crew. The LADY. First BROTHER. Second BROTHER. SABRINA, the Nymph. THE FIRST SCENE DISCOVERS A WILD WOOD. The attendant SPIRIT descends or enters. BEFORE the starry threshold of Jove's court My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot, Which men call earth, and, with low-thoughted care Confined, and pestered in this pinfold here, Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being, Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives, After this mortal change, to her true ser vants, Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats. To such my errand is; and, but for such, sway Of every salt flood, and each ebbing stream, crowns, And wield their little tridents. But this isle, An old and haughty nation, proud in arins; COMUS. Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely All other parts remaining as they were; lore, Are coming to attend their father's state, The nodding horror of whose shady brows I was despatched for their defence and guard; And listen why-for I will tell you now What never yet was heard in tale or song, From old or modern bard, in hall or bower. Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape 557 And they, so perfect is their misery, And all their friends and native home forget, Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star I shoot from heav'n, to give him safe convoy As now I do. But first I must put off Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, listed, roar, faith, On Circe's island fell. Who knows not Circe, And hush the waving woods; nor of less With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth, Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son Who ripe, and frolic of his full grown age, Excels his mother at her mighty art, they taste, And, in this office of his mountain watch, Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid, Of this occasion. But I hear the tread Of hateful steps; I must be viewless now. COMUS enters, with a charming rod in one hand, his glass in the other; with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts-but otherwise like men and women, their apparel glistening; they como in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands. COMUS. The star that bids the shepherd fold His glowing axle doth allay To quench the drouth of Phoebus; which as And the slope sun his upward beam thirst) Soon as the potion works, their human coun- Meanwhile welcome Joy and Feast, tenance, Th express resemblance of the gods, is Tipsy Dance and Jollity. changed Into some brutish forin, of wolf, or bear, Or ounce, or tiger, hog or bearded goat Braid your locks with rosy twine Dropping odors, dropping wine. Rigor now is gone to bed, |