Part 47 (1/2)

The delicate body, weak and suffering, Quite unadorned and tossing to and fro In oft-renewing wretchedness, will wring Even from thee a raindrop-tear, I know-- Soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s like thine are pitiful to others' woe.

x.x.xI

I know her bosom full of love for me, And therefore fancy how her soul doth grieve In this our first divorce; it cannot be Self-flattery that idle boastings weave-- Soon shalt thou see it all, and seeing, shalt believe.

x.x.xII

_Quivering of the eyelids_

Her hanging hair prevents the twinkling s.h.i.+ne Of fawn-eyes that forget their glances sly, Lost to the friendly aid of rouge and wine-- Yet the eyelids quiver when thou drawest nigh As water-lilies do when fish go scurrying by.

x.x.xIII

_and trembling of the limbs are omens of speedy union with the beloved_.

And limbs that thrill to thee thy welcome prove, Limbs fair as stems in some rich plantain-bower, No longer showing marks of my rough love, Robbed of their cooling pearls by fatal power, The limbs which I was wont to soothe in pa.s.sion's hour.

x.x.xIV

But if she should be lost in happy sleep, Wait, bear with her, grant her but three hours' grace, And thunder not, O cloud, but let her keep The dreaming vision of her lover's face-- Loose not too soon the imagined knot of that embrace.

x.x.xV

As thou wouldst wake the jasmine's budding wonder, Wake her with breezes blowing mistily; Conceal thy lightnings, and with words of thunder Speak boldly, though she answer haughtily With eyes that fasten on the lattice and on thee.

x.x.xVI

_The cloud is instructed how to announce himself_

”Thou art no widow; for thy husband's friend Is come to tell thee what himself did say-- A cloud with low, sweet thunder-tones that send All weary wanderers hastening on their way, Eager to loose the braids of wives that lonely stay.”

x.x.xVII

_in such a way as to win the favour of his auditor_.

Say this, and she will welcome thee indeed, Sweet friend, with a yearning heart's tumultuous beating And joy-uplifted eyes; and she will heed The after message: such a friendly greeting Is hardly less to woman's heart than lovers' meeting.

x.x.xVIII

_The message itself_.

Thus too, my king, I pray of thee to speak, Remembering kindness is its own reward; ”Thy lover lives, and from the holy peak Asks if these absent days good health afford-- Those born to pain must ever use this opening word.

x.x.xIX

With body worn as thine, with pain as deep, With tears and ceaseless longings answering thine, With sighs more burning than the sighs that keep Thy lips ascorch--doomed far from thee to pine, He too doth weave the fancies that thy soul entwine.

XL

He used to love, when women friends were near, To whisper things he might have said aloud That he might touch thy face and kiss thine ear; Unheard and even unseen, no longer proud, He now must send this yearning message by a cloud.