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And I in my vision imprisoned was restless and wan With a yearning for vigor to gird and be gone Out of false dreams to the true--realities n.o.ble of dawn.
VIII.
1
Vanis.h.i.+ng visions, whose lineaments steal into slumbers, Loosened the lids of the sight the night that enc.u.mbers; Secretly, sweetly with fingers of fog that were slow, Slow as a song that mysterious Pa.s.sions the soul, till delirious, Wrapped in mad melody mastering the uttermost woe, Deep to the innermost deep it is shaken Ruffled and rippled and tossed, Tantalized, terrorized, cursed with a thirst that, unslaken, Debauches with eyes that burn stolid, yet only shall waken With infinite scorn of the cost If no note of the rhapsody's lost.
2.
Oh, for the music of moonbeams that master and sweep Chords of the resonant deep!
Smiting loud lyres of Night, sonorous as fire, Leap fluttering fingers of vanquis.h.i.+ng flash and of flake Fain at each firmament-universe-instrument star-strung.
Vibrating-vestured in garments of woven desire, Stoop to me, breathe on me, smile on me, waver, "_Awake!
From waking to sleeping, to silence from manifold clamor, To revelous regions of multiform glamour!_"
Murmur and whisper "_Awake!_"
Oh, necromance banquets by fountains of fairy, the spar-sprung!
Oh, sorcerous beauties and wonders of wizards! oh take The millions of morning-spun gleams, All glitters of galloping streams, The glimmer the gasp the clutch and the grasp, That colorless crystals and virtuous jewels As spasmodic fuels Cuddle and huddle and clasp: The wrinkle and crinkle of scintillant heat in white metals; The quiver of terrible gold and the pearly Lithe brilliance of soft, holy petals, Of slender, sad blossoms, tumultuous tossed crispy and curly In shadowy reaches of violet dark; The burn of the stars and the spark Fragile of foams that are fluted, to make One cordial of dreams To drink and to sink Deep, deep into dreams nor awake.
IX
1
As to a Nymph in the ripple-ribbed body of ocean, Down, down thro' vast stories of water, a hiss and devour Electrify alt.i.tudes...o...b..d,--pulses violent motion Of Thunder, who treads the brute neck of the seas in his power, Till their spine writhes lumped into waves,--the Nymph in her bower, Rubbing moist sleep from her eyes, arises,-- Loosens the loops of her locks, Loosens, and suddenly darts on the storm and surprises The boisterous bands of the rocks, That hoot to the riddling arrows of rain and of seas, Mountainous these;-- Swirling and whirling, She of the huge exultation beheld, with long tresses, Dotted with bells of the hollow, hard foam, flung streaming, Dives, bounds to the whirlwind embracing; then mockingly presses Hair to wild face and wild throat, drifts desolate dreaming; With scorn then laughing and screaming, Discovers full beauty of nakedness leaping and gleaming; And showering the rain from her hair, Pouts blown, curdled foam from her lips, And eddying slips, From the ravenous eyes of the Thunder that glare, Away, away, To the arms of her lover the Spray.
So I,-- At swift thoughts that were spoken, that came As if winds had fas.h.i.+oned a speech--was a flame That dwindled, was kindled, then mounted and, Marvelling why,-- Stemming all thought, a gleam out of gleams Was born into dreams.
2.
Beautiful-bosomed, O Night! with thy moon, Move in majesty slowly to majesty lightly!
Silent as sleep, who is lulled by a delicate tune, O'er-stroke thou the air with a languor of moonlight brightly!
Thin ice, in sockets of turquoise fastened, the stars Gash golden the bosom of heaven with fiery scars.
Swoon down, O shadowy hosts, O mult.i.tude ghosts, Of the moonlight and starlight begotten!--Then swept Whispers that sighed to me, sorrows that stealthily hovered, Laughters with lips that were mist. And murmurings crept On toward me feet that were glow; and faces uncovered, Radiant and crystalline clear, In tortuous, sinuous swirl of vapory pearl, Waned near and more near.
Flashed faster a spiral of shapes and of shadows still faster, On in a whirl of unutterable beauties by music expired, That lived and desired,-- Born births of the brain of a rhapsody-reveling master; And mine eyes, with their beauties infired, Smiled scorn on dark Death and Disaster.
X.
"Ah! now the orchard's leaves are sear, Drip not with starlight-litten dew; Green-drowned no moon-bright fruit hangs here; Dead, dead your long, white lilies too-- And you, Allita, where are you!"
Then comes her dim touch, faintly warm; Cool hair sense on my feverish cheek; Dim eyes at mine deep with some charm,-- So gray! so gray! and I am weak Weak with wild tears and can not speak.
I am as one who walks with dreams: Sees as in youth his father's home; Hears from his native mountain-streams Far music of continual foam.
DEAD AND GONE.
I
I wot well o' his going To think in flowers fair;-- His a right kind heart, my dear, To give the gra.s.s such hair.
II.
I wot well o' his lying Such nights out in the cold,-- To list the cricket's crick, my sweet, To see the glow-worm's gold.
III.
An mine eyes be laughterful, Well may they laugh, I trow,-- Since two dead eyes a yesternight Gazed in them sad enow.
IV.
An my heart make moan and ache, Well may it dree, I'm sure;-- He is dead and gone, my love, And it is beggar poor.
A MABINOGI.
In samite sark yclad was she; And that fair glimmerish band of gold Which crowned long, savage locks of hair In the moon brent cold.
She with big eyeb.a.l.l.s gloomed and glowered, And lightly hummed some Elfin's song, And one could naught save on her stare And fare along.
Yea; sad and lute-like was that song And softly said its mystery; Which quaintly sang in elden verse "Thy love I'll be."
And oft it said: "I love thee true, Sir Ewain, champion of the fair."
And never wist he what a witch Was that one there.
And never wist he that a witch Had bound him with her wily hair, Eke with dark art had ta'en his heart To slay him there.
And all his soul did wax amort To stars, to hills, to slades, to streams, And it but held that sorceress fair As one of dreams.
And now he kens some castle gray Wild turrets ivied, in the moon, Old, where through woodlands foaming on A torrent shone....
In its high hall full twenty knights With visors barred all sternly stand; The following of some gracious brave, Lord of the land.
And lo! when that dim damosel Moved down the hall, they louted low; And she was queen of all that band, That dame of snow.
Now on that knight she stared eftsoons, And cried on high unto her crew, "Behold! Sir Knights, the dastard brave Your king that slew."
And all those heathen knights wox wild Attonce; and all against him drave; Long battle blades and daggers bright Aloft did wave.