Collected Works (Vol. I)

THE TALE Or ARCIIAIS 21 From man to woman with a strange swift motion, . Like tide and ebb upon a summer ocean. Thus he went forth a girl; his steps he presses Through sickly wastes and burning wilder- nesses To the lascivious shade of Ida’s deep re- cesses. FAIRER than woman blushing at the kiss Of young keen Phoibos, whose lips’ nectar is More fresh than lies, whose divine embrace Flushes the creamy pallor of her face, And, even in those depths of azure sea Where her eyes dwell, bids them glint amorously, While the intense hushed music of his breath Sighs, till her longing grows divine as death— So, fairer far, drew dawn on Ida’s grove. The young sun rose, whose burning lips of love Kissed the green steeps, whose royal locks of flame Brushed o’er the dewy pastures, with acclaim Of tuneful thrushes shrill with mountain song, And noise of nightingales, and murmur long— A sigh half-sad, as if remembering earth And all the massy pillars of her girth ; Half-jubilant, as if foreseeing a world Fresher with starlight and with waters pearled, Sunnier days and rivers calm and clear, And music for four seasons of the year, And pleasant peoples with glad throat and voice Too wise to grieve, too happy to rejoice. So came the dawn on Ida to disclose Within her confines a delicious rose Lying asleep, a-dreaming, white of brow, Stainless and splendid. Yea, and fair enow To tempt the lips of Death to kiss her eyes And bid her waken in the sad surprise Of seeing round her the iron gates of hell In gloomy strength: so sweet, so terrible, So fair, her image in the brook might make A passionless old god his hunger slake By plunging in the waters, though he knew Ilis drowning body drowned her image too. ¥et she seemed gentle. Never thorn assailed The tender finger that would touch, nor failed The strong desire of Zeus, who wisely went, As was his wont, with amorous intent Among those pastures, and fresh fragrant lawns, And dewy wonder of new woods, where dawns A new flower every day, a perfect flower, Each queenher than her sister, though the shower Of early dew begemmed them all with stars, Diamond and pearl, between the pleasant bars Of cool green trees that avenued the grove. Zeus wandered through their bounds, and dreamt of love. Weary of women’s old lascivious breed, The large luxurious lips of Ganymede, He, weary of tainted kiss and feverish lust, tsteeming love a desert of dry dust Because he found no freshness, no restraint, No virgin bosom, lips without a taint Of lewd imagining, yet passed not by With scorn of curled lip and contempt of eye The chaste abandon of the sleeping maid, But looked upon her lips, checked course, and stayed, And noted all the virginal fresh air Of Charicles, the maiden head half bare To Phoibos’ kiss, half veiled by dimpled arms Within whose love it rested, all her charms Half-shown, half-hidden, amorous but chaste. And so, between the branches interlaced And all the purple white-starred under- growth, Zeus crept beside the maiden, little loath ‘To waken her caresses, and let noon Fade into midnight in the amorous swoon Of long delight, and so with gentle kiss Touched the maid’s cheek, and broke her dream of bliss. And she, more startled than the yearling fawn As the rude sun breaks golden out of dawn,