Volume I Part 7 (1/2)

Still thy pure protecting influence Shed from those fair watchful eyes! - Lo! her angry orb has vanished, And the bright sun thrones the skies!

Voicelessly the forest Virgin Vanished! but one look she gave - Keen as Niobean arrow Thro' the maiden's heart it drave.

Thus toward that throning bosom Where all earth is warmed,--each spot Nourished with autumnal blessings - Icy chill was Daphne caught.

Icy chill! but swift revulsion All her gentler self renewed, Even as icy Winter quickens With bud-opening warmth imbued.

Even as a torpid brooklet, That to the night-gleaming moon Flashed in turn the frozen glances, Melts upon the breast of noon.

But no more--O never, never, Turns she to that bosom bright, Swiftly all her senses counsel, All her nerves are strung to flight.

O'er the brows of radiant Pindus Rolls a shadow dark and cold, And a sound of lamentation Issues from its mournful fold.

Voice of the far-sighted Muses!

Cry of keen foreboding song!

Every cleft of startled Tempe Tingles with it sharp and long.

Over bourn and bosk and dingle, Over rivers, over rills, Runs the sad subservient Echo Toward the dim blue distant hills!

And another and another!

'Tis a cry more wild than all; And the hills with m.u.f.fled voices Answer 'Daphne!' to the call.

And another and another!

'Tis a cry so wildly sweet, That her charmed heart turns rebel To the instinct of her feet;

And she pauses for an instant; But his arms have scarcely slid Round her waist in cestian girdles, And his low voluptuous lid

Lifted pleading, and the honey Of his mouth for hers athirst, Ruby glistening, raised for moisture - Like a bud that waits to burst

In the sweet espousing showers - And his tongue has scarce begun With its inarticulate burthen, And the clouds scarce show the sun

As it pierces thro' a crevice Of the ma.s.s that closed it o'er, When again the horror flashes - And she turns to flight once more!

And again o'er radiant Pindus Rolls the shadow dark and cold, And the sound of lamentation Issues from its sable fold!

And again the light winds chide her As she darts from his embrace - And again the far-voiced echoes Speak their tidings of the chase.

Loudly now as swiftly, swiftly, O'er the glimmering sands she speeds; Wildly now as in the furzes From the piercing spikes she bleeds.

Deeply and with direful anguish, As above each crimson drop Pa.s.sion checks the G.o.d Apollo, And love bids him weep and stop. -

He above each drop of crimson Shadowing--like the laurel leaf That above himself will shadow - Sheds a fadeless look of grief.

Then with love's remorseful discord, With its own desire at war, Sighing turns, while dimly fleeting Daphne flies the chase afar.

But all nature is against her!

Pan, with all his sylvan troop, Thro' the vista'd woodland valleys Blocks her course with cry and whoop!

In the twilights of the thickets Trees bend down their gnarled boughs, Wild green leaves and low curved branches Hold her hair and beat her brows.