Part 4 (2/2)

I.

The earth is glad, I know, when night is spent, For then she wakes the birdlings in the bowers; And, one by one, the rosy-footed hours Start for the race; and from his crimson tent The soldier-sun looks o'er the firmament; And all his path is strewn with festal flowers.

II.

But what his mission? What the happy quest Of all this toil? He journeys on his way As Caesar did, unbia.s.s'd by the sway Of maid or man. His goal is in the west.

Will he unbuckle there, and, in his rest, Dream of the G.o.ds who died in Nero's day?

III.

Will he arraign the traitor in his camp?

The Winter Comet who, with streaming hair, Attack'd the sweetest of the Pleiads fair And ravish'd her, and left her in the damp Of dull decay, nor re-illumined the lamp That show'd the place she occupied in air.

IV.

No; 'tis not so! He seeks his lady-moon, The gentle orb for whom Endymion sigh'd, And trusts to find her by the ocean tide, Or near a forest in the coming June; For he has lov'd her since she late did swoon In that eclipse of which she nearly died.

V.

He knew her then; he knew her in the glow Of all her charms. He knew that she was chaste, And that she wore a girdle at her waist Whiter than pearl. And when he eyed her so He knew that in the final overthrow He should prevail, and she should be embraced.

VI.

But were I minded thus, were I the sun, And thou the moon, I would not bide so long To hear the marvels of thy wedding-song; For I would have the planets, every one, Conduct thee home, before the day was done, And call thee queen, and crown thee in the throng.

VII.

And, like Apollo, I would flash on thee, And rend thy veil, and call thee by the name That Daphne lov'd, the loadstar of his fame; And make myself for thee as white to see As whitest marble, and as wildly free As Leda's lover with his look of flame.

VIII.

And there should then be fetes that should not cease Till I had kiss'd thee, lov'd one! in a trance Lasting a life-time, through a life's romance; And every star should have a mate apiece, And I would teach them how, in ancient Greece, The G.o.ds were masters of the maidens' dance.

IX.

I should be bold to act; and thou should'st feel Terror and joy combined, in all the span Of thy sweet body, ere my fingers ran From curl to curl, to prompt thee how to kneel; And then, soul-stricken by thy mute appeal, I should be quick to answer like a man.

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