Is coming fresh upon me: O be kind! Keep back thine influence, and do not blind My sovereign vision.-Dearest love, forgive That I can think away from thee and live!- Pardon me, airy planet, that I prize One thought beyond thine argent luxuries! How far beyond!" At this a surprised start Frosted the springing verdure of his heart; For as he lifted up his eyes to swear
How his own goddess was past all things fair, He saw far in the concave green of the sea An old man sitting calm and peacefully. Upon a weeded rock this old man sat, And his white hair was awful, and a mat Of weeds was cold beneath his cold thin feet; And, ample as the largest winding-sheet, A cloak of blue wrapp'd up his aged bones, O'erwrought with symbols by the deepest groans Of ambitious magic: every ocean-form Was woven in with black distinctness: storm, And calm, and whispering, and hideous roar Were emblem'd in the woof; with every shape That skims, or dives, or sleeps, 'twixt cape and cape, The gulfing whale was like a dot in the spell, Yet look upon it, and 't would size and swell To its huge self; and the minutest fish Would pass the very hardest gazer's wish, And show his little eye's anatomy. Then there was pictured the regality
Of Neptune; and the sea-nymphs round his state, In beauteous vassalage, look up and wait. Beside this old man lay a pearly wand, And in his lap a book, the which he conn'd So stedfastly, that the new denizen Had time to keep him in amazed ken,
To mark these shadowings, and stand in awe.
The old man raised his hoary head and saw The wilder'd stranger-seeming not to see, His features were so lifeless. Suddenly
He woke as from a trance; his snow-white brows Went arching up, and like two magic plows Furrow'd deep wrinkles in his forehead large, Which kept as fixedly as rocky marge, Till round his wither'd lips had gone a smile. Then up he rose, like one whose tedious toil Had watch'd for years in forlorn hermitage, Who had not from mid-life to utmost age Eased in one accent his o'er-burden'd soul, Even to the trees. He rose he grasp'd his stole, With convulsed clenches waving it abroad, And in a voice of solemn joy, that awed Echo into oblivion, he said :-
"Thou art the man! Now shall I lay my head In peace upon my watery pillow: now Sleep will come smoothly to my weary brow. O Jove! I shall be young again, be young! O shell-born Neptune, I am pierced and stung With new-born life! What shall I do? Where go, When I have cast this serpent-skin of woe?I'll swim to the syrens, and one moment listen Their melodies, and see their long hair glisten; Anon upon that giant's arm I'll be, That writhes about the roots of Sicily:
To northern seas I'll in a twinkling sail, And mount upon the snortings of a whale To some black cloud; thence down I'll madly sweep On forked lightning, to the deepest deep, Where through some sucking pool I will be hurl'd With rapture to the other side of the world! O, I am full of gladness! Sisters three, I bow full-hearted to your old decree! Yes, every God be thank'd, and power benign, For I no more shall wither, droop, and pine. Thou art the man!" Endymion started back Dismay'd; and, like a wretch from whom the rack Tortures hot breath, and speech of agony,
What lonely death am I to die In this cold region? Will he let me freeze, And float my brittle limbs o'er polar seas? Or will he touch me with his searing hand, And leave a black memorial on the sand? Or tear me piecemeal with a bony saw, And keep me as a chosen food to draw His magian fish through hated fire and flame? O misery of hell! resistless, tame,
Am I to be burnt up? No, I will shout, Until the Gods through heaven's blue look out!- O Tartarus! but some few days agone
Her soft arms were entwining me, and on Her voice 1 hung like fruit among green leaves: Her lips were all my own, and-ah, ripe sheaves Of happiness! ye on the stubble droop, But never may be garner'd. I must stoop My head, and kiss death's foot. Love! love, farewell! Is there no hope from thee? This horrid spell Would melt at thy sweet breath.-By Dian's hind Feeding from her white fingers, on the wind I see thy streaming hair! and now, by Pan, I care not for this old mysterious man!"
He spake, and walking to that aged form, Look'd high defiance. Lo! his heart 'gan warm With pity, for the gray-hair'd creature wept. Had he then wrong'd a heart where sorrow kept? Had he, though blindly contumelious, brought, Rheum to kind eyes, a sting to human thought, Convulsion to a mouth of many years?
He had in truth; and he was ripe for tears. The penitent shower fell, as down he knelt Before that care-worn sage, who trembling felt About his large dark locks, and faltering spake :
"Arise, good youth, for sacred Phoebus' sake! I know thine inmost bosom, and I feel A very brother's yearning for thee steal Into mine own: for why? thou openest The prison-gates that have so long opprest My weary watching. Though thou know'st it not, Thou art commission'd to this fated spot For great enfranchisement. O weep no more; I am a friend to love, to loves of yore:
Ay, hadst thou never loved an unknown power,
I had been grieving at this joyous hour. But even now most miserable old,
I saw thee, and my blood no longer cold Gave mighty pulses: in this tottering case Grew a new heart, which at this moment plays As dancingly as thine. Be not afraid, For thou shalt hear this secret all display'd,
Now past the midway from mortality, And so I can prepare without a sigh To tell thee briefly all my joy and pain. I was a fisher once, upon this main,
And my boat danced in every creek and bay; Rough billows were my home by night and day,- The sea-gulls not more constant; for I had No housing from the storm and tempests mad, But hollow rocks,-and they were palaces Of silent happiness, of slumberous ease: Long years of misery have told me so. Ay, thus it was one thousand years ago. One thousand years!-Is it then possible To look so plainly through them? to dispel
A thousand years with backward glance sublime? To breathe away as 't were all scummy slime From off a crystal pool, to see its deep, And one's own image from the bottom peep? Yes: now I am no longer wretched thrall, My long captivity and moanings all Are but a slime, a thin-pervading scum, The which I breathe away, and thronging come Like things of yesterday my youthful pleasures.
"I touch'd no lute, I sang not, trod no measures: I was a lonely youth on desert shores. My sports were lonely, 'mid continuous roars, And craggy isles, and sea-mews' plaintive cry Plaining discrepant between sea and sky. Dolphins were still my playmates; shapes unseen Would let me feel their scales of gold and green, Nor be my desolation; and, full oft, When a dread water-spout had rear'd aloft Its hungry hugeness, seeming ready ripe To burst with hoarsest thunderings, and wipe My life away like a vast sponge of fate, Some friendly monster, pitying my sad state, Has dived to its foundations, gulf'd it down, And left me tossing safely. But the crown Of all my life was utmost quietude: More did I love to lie in cavern rude, Keeping in wait whole days for Neptune's voice, And if it came at last, hark, and rejoice! There blush'd no summer eve but I would steer My skiff along green shelving coasts, to hear The shepherd's pipe come clear from aery steep, Mingled with ceaseless bleatings of his sheep: And never was a day of summer shine, But I beheld its birth upon the brine; For I would watch all night to see unfold Heaven's gates, and Æthon snort his morning gold Wide o'er the swelling streams: and constantly At brim of day-tide, on some grassy lea, My nets would be spread out, and I at rest. The poor folk of the sea-country I blest With daily boon of fish most delicate: They knew not whence this bounty, and elate
Would strew sweet flowers on a sterile beach.
Why was I not contented? Wherefore reach At things which, but for thee, O Latmian! Had been my dreary death! Fool! I began To feel distemper'd longings: to desire The utmost privilege that ocean's sire Could grant in benediction: to be free Of all his kingdom. Long in misery I wasted, ere in one extremest fit
I plunged for life or death. To interknit One's senses with so dense a breathing stuff Might seem a work of pain; so not enough Can I admire how crystal-smooth it felt, And buoyant round my limbs. At first I dwelt Whole days and days in sheer astonishment; Forgetful utterly of self-intent;
Moving but with the mighty ebb and flow. Then, like a new-fledged bird that first doth show His spreaded feathers to the morrow chill, I tried in fear the pinions of my will. 'Twas freedom! and at once I visited The ceaseless wonders of this ocean-bed. No need to tell thee of them, for I see That thou hast been a witness-it must be For these I know thou canst not feel a drouth, By the melancholy corners of that mouth. So I will in my story straightway pass To more immediate matter. Woe, alas! That love should be my bane! Ah, Scylla fair! Why did poor Glaucus ever-ever dare To sue thee to his heart? Kind stranger-youth! I loved her to the very white of truth, And she would not conceive it. Timid thing! She fled me swift as sea-bird on the wing, Round every isle, and point, and promontory, From where large Hercules wound up his story Far as Egyptian Nile. My passion grew The more, the more I saw her dainty hue Gleam delicately through the azure clear: Until 't was too fierce agony to bear; And in that agony, across my grief
It flash'd, that Circe might find some relief- Cruel enchantress! So above the water
I rear'd my head, and look'd for Phœbus' daughter. Ema's isle was wondering at the moon:-
It seem'd to whirl around me, and a swoon Left me dead-drifting to that fatal power.
"When I awoke, 't was in a twilight bower; Just when the light of morn, with hum of bees, Stole through its verdurous matting of fresh trees. How sweet, and sweeter! for I heard a lyre, And over it a sighing voice expire. It ceased-I caught light footsteps; and anon The fairest face that morn e'er look'd upon Push'd through a screen of roses. Starry Jove! With tears, and smiles, and honey-words she wore A net whose thraldom was more bliss than all The range of flower'd Elysium. Thus did fall The dew of her rich speech: "Ah! art awake! O let me hear thee speak, for Cupid's sake! I am so oppress'd with joy! Why, I have shed An urn of tears, as though thou wert cold dead; And now I find thee living, I will pour From these devoted eyes their silver store,
Until exhausted of the latest drop,
So it will pleasure thee, and force thee stop Here, that I too may live: but if beyond Such cool and sorrowful offerings, thou art fond Of soothing warmth, of dalliance supreme; If thou art ripe to taste a long love-dream; If smiles, if dimples, tongues for ardor mute, Hang in thy vision like a tempting fruit, O let me pluck it for thee." Thus she link'd Her charming syllables, till indistinct Their music came to my o'er-sweeten'd soul; And then she hover'd over me, and stole So near, that if no nearer it had been This furrow'd visage thou hadst never seen.
"Young man of Latmos! thus particular Am I, that thou mayst plainly see how far This fierce temptation went: and thou mayst not Exclaim, How then, was Scylla quite forgot?
"Who could resist? Who in this universe? She did so breathe ambrosia; so immerse My fine existence in a golden clime.
She took me like a child of suckling time, And cradled me in roses. Thus condemn'd, The current of my former life was stemm'd, And to this arbitrary queen of sense
I bow'd a tranced vassal: nor would thence
Bewitch'd me towards; and I soon was near A sight too fearful for the feel of fear; In thicket hid I cursed the haggard scene- The banquet of my arms, my arbor queen, Seated upon an uptorn forest root;
And all around her shapes, wizard and brute, Laughing, and wailing, grovelling, serpenting, Showing tooth, tusk, and venom-bag, and sting! O such deformities! Old Charon's self, Should he give up awhile his penny pelf, And take a dream 'mong rushes Stygian, It could not be so fantasied. Fierce, wan, And tyrannizing was the lady's look, As over them a gnarled staff she shook. Oft-times upon the sudden she laugh'd out, And from a basket emptied to the rout Clusters of grapes, the which they raven'd quick And roar'd for more; with many a hungry lick About their shaggy jaws. Avenging, slow, Anon she took a branch of mistletoe, And emptied on't a black dull-gurgling phial: Groan'd one and all, as if some piercing trial Was sharpening for their pitiable bones. She lifted up the charm: appealing groans From their poor breasts went suing to her ear In vain; remorseless as an infant's bier, She whisk'd against their eyes the sooty oil. Whereat was heard a noise of painful toil, Increasing gradual to a tempest rage,
Have moved, even though Amphion's heart had woo'd Shrieks, yells, and groans of torture-pilgrimage;
Me back to Scylla o'er the billows rude. For as Apollo each eve doth devise A new apparelling for western skies; So every eve, nay, every spendthrift hour Shed balmy consciousness within that bower. And I was free of haunts umbrageous; Could wander in the mazy forest-house Of squirrels, foxes sly, and antler'd deer, And birds from coverts innermost and drear Warbling for very joy mellifluous sorrow- To me new-born delights!
"Now let me borrow, For moments few, a temperament as stern As Pluto's sceptre, that my words not burn These uttering lips, while I in calm speech tell How specious heaven was changed to real hell.
"One morn she left me sleeping: half awake I sought for her smooth arms and lips, to slake My greedy thirst with nectarous camel-draughts; But she was gone. Whereat the barbed shafts Of disappointment stuck in me so sore, That out I ran and search'd the forest o'er. Wandering about in pine and cedar gloom, Damp awe assail'd me; for there 'gan to boom A sound of moan, an agony of sound, Sepulchral from the distance all around. Then came a conquering earth-thunder, and rumbled That fierce complain to silence: while I stumbled Down a precipitous path, as if impell'd, I came to a dark valley.-Groanings swell'd Poisonous about my ears, and louder grew, The nearer I approach'd a flame's gaunt blue, That glared before me through a thorny brake. This fire, like the eye of gordian snake,
Until their grieved bodies 'gan to bloat And puff from the tail's end to stifled throat: Then was appalling silence: then a sight More wildering than all that hoarse affright; For the whole herd, as by a whirlwind writhen, Went through the dismal air like one huge Python Antagonizing Boreas, and so vanish'd.
Yet there was not a breath of wind: she banish'd These phantoms with a nod. Lo! from the dark Came waggish fauns, and nymphs, and satyrs stark, With dancing and loud revelry, and went Swifter than centaurs after rapine bent.- Sighing an elephant appear'd and bow'd Before the fierce witch, speaking thus aloud In human accent: Potent goddess! chief Of pains resistless! make my being brief, Or let me from this heavy prison fly: Or give me to the air, or let me die! I sue not for my happy crown again; I sue not for my phalanx on the plain; I sue not for my lone, my widow'd wife: I sue not for my ruddy drops of life, My children fair, my lovely girls and boys! I will forget them; I will pass these joys; Ask naught so heavenward, so too-too high: Only I pray, as fairest boon, to die, Or be deliver'd from this cumbrous flesh, From this gross, detestable, filthy mesh, And merely given to the cold bleak air. Have mercy, Goddess! Circe, feel my prayer!'
"That curst magician's name fell icy numb Upon my wild conjecturing: truth had come Naked and sabre-like against my heart. I saw a fury whetting a death-dart;
And my slain spirit, overwrought with fright, Fainted away in that dark lair of night. Think, my deliverer, how desolate
My waking must have been! disgust, and hate, And terrors manifold divided me
A spoil amongst them. I prepared to flee Into the dungeon core of that wild wood: I fled three days-when lo! before me stood Glaring the angry witch, O Dis, even now, A clammy dew is beading on my brow, At mere remembering her pale laugh, and curse. Ha ha! Sir Dainty! there must be a nurse Made of rose-leaves and thistle-down, express, To cradle thee, my sweet, and lull thee: yes, I am too flinty-hard for thy nice touch: My tenderest squeeze is but a giant's clutch. So, fairy-thing, it shall have lullabies Unheard of yet; and it shall still its cries Upon some breast more lily-feminine. Oh, no, it shall not pine, and pine, and pine More than one pretty, trifling thousand years; And then 't were pity, but fate's gentle shears Cut short its immortality. Sea-flirt!
Young dove of the waters! truly I'll not hurt One hair of thine: see how I weep and sigh, That our heart-broken parting is so nigh. And must we part? Ah, yes, it must be so. Yet ere thou leavest me in utter woe,
Let me sob over thee my last adieus,
Because I loved her?-Cold, O cold indeed Were her fair limbs, and like a common weed The sea-swell took her hair. Dead as she was I clung about her waist, nor ceased to pass Fleet as an arrow through unfathom'd brine, Until there shone a fabric crystalline, Ribb'd and inlaid with coral, pebble, and pearl. Headlong I darted; at one eager swirl Gain'd its bright portal, enter'd, and behold! "Twas vast, and desolate, and icy-cold; And all around-But wherefore this to thee Who in few minutes more thyself shalt see!- I left poor Scylla in a niche and fied.
My fever'd parchings up, my scathing dread Met palsy half-way soon these limbs became Gaunt, wither'd, sapless, feeble, cramp'd, and lame.
Now let me pass a cruel, cruel space, Without one hope, without one faintest trace Of mitigation, or redeeming bubble
Of color'd fantasy; for I fear 't would trouble Thy brain to loss of reason; and next tell How a restoring chance came down to quell One half of the witch in me.
"On a day, Sitting upon a rock above the spray,
I saw grow up from the horizon's brink A gallant vessel soon she seem'd to sink
And speak a blessing: Mark me! Thou hast thews Away from me again, as though her course
Immortal, for thou art of heavenly race: But such a love is mine, that here I chase Eternally away from thee all bloom Of youth, and destine thee towards a tomb. Hence shalt thou quickly to the watery vast; And there, ere many days be overpast, Disabled age shall seize thee; and even then Thou shalt not go the way of aged men; But live and wither, cripple and still breathe Ten hundred years: which I then bequeath Thy fragile bones to unknown burial. Adieu, sweet love, adieu!'-As shot stars fall, She fled ere I could groan for mercy. Stung And poison'd was my spirit: despair sung A war-song of defiance 'gainst all hell. A hand was at my shoulder to compel My sullen steps; another 'fore my eyes Moved on with pointed finger. In this guise Enforced, at the last by ocean's foam
I found me; by my fresh, my native home, Its tempering coolness, to my life akin, Came salutary as I waded in;
And, with a blind voluptuous rage, I gave Battle to the swollen billow-ridge, and drave Large froth before me, while there yet remain'd Hale strength, nor from my bones all marrow drain'd.
Had been resumed in spite of hindering force- So vanish'd: and not long, before arose Dark clouds, and muttering of winds morose. Old Eolus would stifle his mad spleen, But could not: therefore all the billows green Toss'd up the silver spume against the clouds. The tempest came: I saw that vessel's shrouds In perilous bustle; while upon the deck Stood trembling creatures. I beheld the wreck; The final gulfing; the poor struggling souls: I heard their cries amid loud thunder-rolls. O they had all been saved but crazed eld Annull'd my vigorous cravings: and thus quell'd And curb'd, think on 't, O Latmian! did I sit Writhing with pity, and a cursing fit
Against that hell-born Circe. The crew had gone, By one and one, to pale oblivion;
And I was gazing on the surges prone, With many a scalding tear and many a groan, When at my feet emerged an old man's hand, Grasping this scroll, and this same slender wand. I knelt with pain-reach'd out my hand-had grasp'd These treasures-touch'd the knuckles-they un-
I caught a finger: but the downward weight O'erpower'd me-it sank. Then 'gan abate The storm, and through chill anguish, gloom outburst The comfortable sun. I was athirst
To search the book, and in the warming air Parted its dripping leaves with eager care. Strange matters did it treat of, and drew on My soul page after page, till well-nigh won Into forgetfulness; when, stupefied,
I read these words, and read again, and tried My eyes against the heavens, and read again O what a load of misery and pain
Each Atlas-line bore off!-a shine of hope Came gold around me, cheering me to cope Strenuous with hellish tyranny. Attend! For thou hast brought their promise to an end.
"In the wide sea there lives a forlorn wretch, Doom'd with enfeebled carcass to outstretch His lothed existence through ten centuries, And then to die alone. who can devise A total opposition? No one. So
One million times ocean must ebb and flow, And he oppress'd. Yet he shall not die, These things accomplish'd:-If he utterly Scans all the depths of magic, and expounds The meanings of all motions, shapes, and sounds; If he explores all forms and substances Straight homeward to their symbol-essences; He shall not die. Moreover, and in chief, He must pursue this task of joy and grief, Most piously;-all lovers tempest-tost, And in the savage overwhelming lost, He shall deposit side by side, until Time's creeping shall the dreary space fulfil: Which done, and all these labors ripened, A youth, by heavenly power beloved and led, Shall stand before him; whom he shall direct How to consummate all. The youth elect Must do the thing, or both will be destroy'd."-
"Then," cried the young Endymion, overjoy'd, "We are twin brothers in this destiny! Say, I entreat thee, what achievement high Is, in this restless world, for me reserved. What! if from thee my wandering feet had swerved, Had we both perish'd?"-" Look!" the sage replied, "Dost thou not mark a gleaming through the tide, Of divers brilliances? 'tis the edifice
I told thee of, where lovely Scylla lies; And where I have enshrined piously All lovers, whom fell storms have doom'd to die Throughout my bondage." Thus discoursing, on They went till unobscured the porches shone; Which hurryingly they gain'd, and enter'd straight. Sure never since king Neptune held his state Was seen such wonder underneath the stars. Turn to some level plain where haughty Mars Has legion'd all his battle; and behold How every soldier, with firm foot, doth hold His even breast: see, many steeled squares, And rigid ranks of iron-whence who dares One step? Imagine further, line by line, These warrior thousands on the field supine:- So in that crystal place, in silent rows, Poor lovers lay at rest from joys and woes.- The stranger from the mountains, breathless, traced Such thousands of shut eyes in order placed; Such ranges of white feet, and patient lips
All ruddy, for here death no blossom nips.
Began to tear his scroll in pieces small, Uttering the while some mumblings funeral. He tore it into pieces small as snow
That drifts unfeather'd when bleak northerns blow; And having done it, took his dark-blue cloak And bound it round Endymion: then struck His wand against the empty air times nine.- "What more there is to do, young man, is thine: But first a little patience; first undo This tangled thread, and wind it to a clue. Ah, gentle! 'tis as weak as spider's skein;
And shouldst thou break it-What, is it done so clean? A power overshadows thee! Oh, brave! The spite of hell is tumbling to its grave. Here is a shell; 'tis pearly blank to me, Nor mark'd with any sign or charactery- Canst thou read aught? O read for pity's sake! Olympus! we are safe! Now, Carian, break This wand against yon lyre on the pedestal."
"Twas done and straight with sudden swell and fall
Sweet music breathed her soul away, and sigh'd A lullaby to silence.-" Youth! now strew These minced leaves on me, and passing through Those files of dead, scatter the same around, And thou wilt see the issue."-'Mid the sound, Of flutes and viols, ravishing his heart, Endymion from Glaucus stood apart,
And scatter'd in his face some fragments light. How lightning-swift the change! a youthful wight Smiling beneath a coral diadem,
Out-sparkling sudden like an upturn'd gem, Appear'd, and, stepping to a beauteous corse, Kneel'd down beside it, and with tenderest force Press'd its cold hand, and wept,-and Scylla sigh'd! Endymion, with quick hand, the charm applied- The nymph arose: he left them to their joy, And onward went upon his high employ, Showering those powerful fragments on the dead And, as he pass'd, each lifted up its head, As doth a flower at Apollo's touch. Death felt it to his inwards; 't was too much : Death fell a-weeping in his charnel-house. The Latmian persevered along, and thus All were reanimated. There arose A noise of harmony, pulses and throes Of gladness in the air-while many, who Had died in mutual arms devout and true, Sprang to each other madly; and the rest Felt a high certainty of being blest. They gazed upon Endymion. Enchantment Grew drunken, and would have its head and bent. Delicious symphonies, like airy flowers,
Budded, and swell'd, and, full-blown, shed full show
Of light, soft, unseen leaves of sounds divine The two deliverers tasted a pure wine Of happiness, from fairy-press oozed out.
He mark'd their brows and foreheads; saw their hair Speechless they eyed each other, and about
Put sleekly on one side with nicest care; And each one's gentle wrists, with reverence, Put crosswise to its heart.
(Whisper'd the guide, stuttering with joy) even now." He spake, and, trembling like an aspen-bough,
The fair assembly wander'd to and fro, Distracted with the richest overflow Of joy that ever pour'd from heaven.
Shouted the new-born god; "Follow, and pay Our piety to Neptunus supreme!"- Then Scylla, blushing sweetly from her dream,
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