rifle, sweet! which true love spellsrue love interprets - right alone. light upon the letter dwells, For all the spirit is his own. if I waste words now, in truth You must blame Love. His early rage 190 d force to make me rhyme in youth, And makes me talk too much in age. d now those vivid hours are gone, Like mine own life to me thou art, here Past and Present, wound in one, Do make a garland for the heart; sing that other song I made, Half-anger'd with my happy lot, 200 e day, when in the chestnut shade I found the blue forget-me-not. Love that hath us in the net, Love is hurt with jar and fret; Idle habit links us yet. 210 O LOVE, Love, Love! O withering might! O sun, that from thy noonday height Shudderest when I strain my sight, Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light, Lo, falling from my constant mind, Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and blind, I whirl like leaves in roaring wind. Last night I wasted hateful hours I crush'd them on my breast, my I look'd athwart the burning drouth The long brook falling thro' the clow Of that long desert to the south. Last night, when some one spoke his name, From my swift blood that went and came A thousand little shafts of flame O Love, O fire! once he drew My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. Before he mounts the hill, I know blow Before him, striking on my brow. In my dry brain my spirit soon, swoon, Faints like a dazzled morning moon. The wind sounds like a silver wire, Bursts into blossom in his sight. My whole soul waiting silently, I will grow round him in his place, XENONE THERE lies a vale in Ida, lovelier Puts forth an arm, and creeps from And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand The lawns and meadow ledges midway down Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea. The gorges, opening wide apart, Į 'Yet, mother Ida, harken ere I die. Fairest why fairest wife? am I not fair? My love hath told me so a thousand times. Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday, When I past by, a wild and wanton pard, Eyed like the evening star, with playful tail Crouch'd fawning in the weed. Most loving is she? Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my arms Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest Close, close to thine in that quick-fall- | ing dew 200 | Or the dry thickets, I could meet with her The Abominable, that uninvited cam Into the fair Peleïan banquet-hall, And cast the golden fruit upon the board, And bred this change; that I might speak my mind, And tell her to her face how much I hate Her presence, hated both of Gods and men. 'O mother, hear me yet before I die. Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times, In this green valley, under this green hill, Even on this hand, and sitting on this stone? Seal'd it with kisses? water'd it with tears? O 230 happy tears, and how unlike to these! O happy heaven, how canst thou see my face? O happy earth, how canst thou bear my weight? O death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud, There are enough unhappy on this earth, Pass by the happy souls, that love to live; I pray thee, pass before my light of life, And shadow all my soul, that I may die. Thou weighest heavy on the heart within, Weigh heavy on my eyelids; let me die. 240 |
