With mortal joys and tears,
Keen woes and blisses,
Awake her faiths and fears,
Her tears and kisses !”
I caught the lavish lyre, and sate
Hard by the waterfall,
Twisting its sweetness intimate
Into the solemn call
Of many dead men that were great,
The plectron’s wizard thrall.
Thus as she danced, nor ceased, nor cared,
I set the sacred throng
Of heroes into acts that fared
In Argo light and long,
The foes they fought, the feats they dared,
In shadow-show and song.
(The play of Argonautae 1s shadowed before
them by Orpheus’ malice might.)
So faded all the dream : so stole
Some fearful fondness in her soul;
Even as a cloud thrilled sharply through
With lightning’s temper keen and true,
Splitting the ether: so again
Grew on me the ecstatic pain,
Seeing her tremble in mid-air,
No flower so exquisitely fair
Shakes out its petals at the dawn ;
No breath so beautiful is drawn
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