Collected Works (Vol. I)

18 THE TALE OF ARCHAIS “For her indeed might Charicles despair !” Yet of her presence was the maiden ’ware, Although her mortal eyes might see her not ; So she knelt down upon that holy spot And greeted her with tears; for now at last The fountains of her sorrow, vague and vast, Burst from the strong inexorable chain Of too great passion, and a mortal pain Beyond belief, and so in sudden waves Tears welled impatient from their crystal caves. (Men say those barren pinnacles are set Since then with jewels ; the white violet Was born of those pure tears; the snowdrop grew Where wakening hope her agonyshot through, And where the Queen of Love had touched her tears, The new-born lily evermore appears.) So Cypris comforts her with tender words That pierce her bosom, like dividing swords, With hopes and loves requickened, and her breath Grew calm as worship’s, though as dark as death Her soul had been for weary days no few ; Now, lightened by the spirit thrust anew As into a dead body breath of life, She gave sweet thanks with gentle lips that ope, Like buds of roses on the sunny slope Of lily gardens falling toward a stream That flashes back the intolerable beam Of sunlight with light heart. They fled away At Cypris’ word, beyond the bounds of day Into the awful caverns of the night, Eerie with ghosts imagined, and the might Of strange spells cast upon them by the dead. So, ere the dying autumn-tide was fled, There, in a lonely cleft of riven rock, Whose iron fastnesses disdain and mock Fury and fire with impassivity, Archais rested, there alone must’she Wait the event of Aphrodite's wiles. There, like a statue, ’mid the massy piles Of thunder-smitten stone, as motionless As Fate she sat, in manifold distress, Awaiting and awaiting aye the same One strong desire of life, that never came. For Aphrodite sought in vain the woods, The silent mountains, and impetuous floods In all the world, nor had she knowledge of Such dens as him concealed ; (for what shotild Love Know of such vile morasses ?) in despair Waved angry wings, and, floating through the air, Came unto Aphaca, lewd citadel Of strange new lusts and devilries of hell, Where god Priapus dwelt; to him she came— She, Love !—and, hiding her fair face for shame, Nor showing aught the quivering scorn that glowed Through all her body, her desire showed In brief sharp words, and the lewd god gave ear (For he shook terribly with bastard fear Of being cast beneath the hoof of Time) And answered her: ‘‘O mightiest, O sublime White deity of heaven, a swamp is known To me, so vile, so more than venomous crown With filthy weeds; yea, all lewd creatures swarm Its airless desolation through ; and warm Sick vapours of disease do putrefy Its feverish exhalations ; yet do I With some fond band of loyal worshippers Often draw thither; and black ministers Of mine therein do office; I have seen This being cursed of Zeus, a snake unclean With its unholy neighbourhood; at morn A fair bright youth, whose large eyes well might scorn The wanton eyes of Ganymede, whose tongue Reiterates ill curses idly strung In circles meaningless high Zeus to move, Vet has twain other cries; the one is ‘ Love! The other ‘ Archais!’” (The Paphian lips Smiled with a splendour potent to eclipse >