Jephthah and Other Mysteries

LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC. 205 The wild night through in the devouring storm, Glistens with dew made sharp and bright with cold, — And no north wind may drive us to the warm Long-looked-for lands where day, with plumes of gold, Flaps like a lazy eagle in the air, Where night, a bird of prey divinely bold, Wings through the sky, intangible but fair, And pale with subtle passion ; and no wind Turns our prow southward, till the canvas bear No more up into it, but still behind Follow like flame, and lead our love along Into the valleys of the ocean, blind, But seeing all the world awake with song Of many lyres and lutes and reeds of straw, And all the rivers musical that throng In bright assemblage of unchanging law, Like many flute-players; and seeing this, (That all the mountains looked upon and saw) The sweetness of the savour of a kiss, And all its perfume wafted to the sky. Nay, but no wind will drive our fortalice (So strong against the sun) to where they ply Those pallid wings, or turn our vessel’s beak With utmost fury to the North, to dye