Collected Works (Vol. I)

S TUE TALE OF ARCITAIS Makes to conceal the fading of the stars: Chance bowed herself across the sunny bars, And watched where through the silence of the lawn Came Charicles, the darling of the dawn, slowly, and to his steps took little heed ; IIe came towards the pool, his god-wrought reed Shrilling dim visions of things glorious, And saw the maiden, that disported thus, And worshipped. Then in doubt he stood, grown white And wonderful, with passion’s perfect might Viring his veins and tingling in his brain, He stood and whitened, and waxed red again. His oat' unheeded glanced beneath the wave, llis eyes grew bright and burning, his lips clave— A sudden cry broke from him: from the height His swift young body, like a ray of light, Divides the air, a moment, and the pool Flings up the spray like dew, divinely cool : A moment, and he flashed towards her side And caught her trembling, as a tender bride At the first kiss ; he caught her, and compelled Her answer, in his arms securely held. And she no word might say; her red lips quailed, Ifer perfect eyelids drooped, her warm cheek paled, A tear stole over it, Ilis lips repent With vain weak words—O iron firmament ! How vain, how cold are words !—his lips repeat Their faint sweet savour, but her rosy feet Held in his hands and touched with reverent lips Revived her soul more perfectly. Soon slips Her gentle answer ; now her timid eyes So tender with the lifted lashes rise To meet his gaze. He spoke: ‘‘ Have pity on me Who wronged thee for my perfect love of thee, i Panpipe. My perfect love, O love! for strange and dread Delights consume me ; I am as one dead Beating at I]eaven’s gate with nerveless wing, Wailing because the song the immortals sing Is so fast barred behind the iron sky. Speak but thine anger quickly; let me die!” ‘*But I forgive thee, thou art good and kind.” ‘“O love! mind, You love me!” ‘‘ Nay, I was awhile afraid, Being so white and tender ; for a maid I lived alone with flower and brook, nor guessed Another dwelt within the quiet nest That these woods build me; hold my tremb- ling hand, Teach me to love; I do not understand.” He clasped her to him, but no word might say, And led her from the pool a little way, And there he laid her on the flowery mead, And watched her weeping. [His forgotten reed Floated away, a ship for fairy folk, Along the limpid rivulet. Then broke From smitten heart and ravished lips the tongue Of fire that clad its essence with the robe of song. O love! O mistress of my SONG OF CHARICLES. Man’s days are dim, his deeds are dust, His span is but a little space, He lusts to live, he lives to lust, His soul is barren of love or trust, His heart is hopeless, seeing he must Perish, and leave no trace ; With impious rage he mocks the bounds - Of earth, albeit so wholly base ; Ilis ears are dead to subtle sounds, His eyes are blind, for Zeus confounds His vain irreverence, and astounds High Heaven with wrathful face.