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Where fond Geneura, with her flame long nurst, He felt the sharp sweetness more strengthen la Smiled upon Launcelot when he kissed her first :- Ten times than ever the spicy rains, (Feins That touch, at last, through every fibre slid; And ere they're aware, he has burst his chajas: And Paulo turned, scarce knowing what he did, He has burst his chains, and ah, ha! he's gove, Only he felt he could no more dissemble,

And the links and the gazers are left alone, And kissed her, mouth to mouth, all in a tremble. And off to the mountains the panthier's flors. Sad were those hearts, and sweet was that long kiss: Sacred be love from sight, whate'er it is.

Now what made the panther a prisoner be; The world was all forgot, the struggle o'er,

Lo! 'twas the spices and luxury.
Desperate the joy.—That day they read no more.

And what set that lordly panther free?
'Twas Love !-'twas Love!-'twas no one but be.

THE PANTHER. The panther leaped to the front of his lair, And stood with a foot up, and snuffed the air; He quivered his tongue from his panting mouth, And looked with a yearning towards the south; For he scented afar in the coming breeze, News of the gums and their blossoming trees; And out of Armenia that same day, He and his race came bounding away. Over the mountains and down to the plains Like Bacchus's panthers with wine in their veins, They came where the woods wept odorous rains; And there, with a quivering, every beast Fell to his old Pamphylian feast. The people who lived not far away, Heard the roaring on that same day; And they said, as they lay in their carpeted rooms, The panthers are come, and are drinking the gums: And some of them going with swords and spears, To gather their share of the rich round tears, The panther I spoke of followed them back; And dumbly they let him tread close in the track, And lured him after them into the town; And then they let the portcullis down, And took the panther, which happened to be The largest was seen in all Pamphily.


PROLOGUE. LOVE, DISGUISED AS A SHEPHERD. Who would believe that in a human forn, And underneath these lowly shepherd's weeds, There walked a hidden God? and he no God Sylvan, or of the common crowd of beaves, But the most potent of their greatest;-ome Who many a time has made the hand of Mars Let fall his bloody sword; and looked away, From the earth-shaker Neptune, his great trident; And his old thunders from consummate Jore.

Doubtless beneath this aspect and this dress,
Venus will not soon know me,-me, her son,
Her own son, Love. I am constrained to lease ber,
And hide from her pursuit ; because she wishes
That I should place my arrows and myself
At her discretion solely; and like a woman,
Vain and ambitious, she would hunt me back
Among mere courts, and coronets, and sceptres,
There to pin down my powers; and to my ministers
And minor brethren, leave sole liberty
To lodge in the green woods, and flesh their dat
In bosoms rude. But I, who am no boy,
Whate'er I seem in visage or in act,
Would of myself dispose as it should please x;
Since not to her, but me, were given by lot
The torch omnipotent, and golden bow.

Therefore I hide about; and so escaping
Not her authority, which she has not in me,
But the strong pressure of a mother's prayers,
I cover me in the wood, and do become
An inmate with its lowly populace.
She follows me, and promises to give
To whomsoever will betray me to her,
Sweet kisses, or a something else still dearer!
As if, forsooth, I knew not how to give
To whomsoever will conceal me from her,
Sweet kisses, or a something else still dearer.
This, at the least, is certain; that my kisses
Will be much dearer to the lasses' lips,
If I, who am Love's self, to love apply me;
So that in many an instance, she must Deeds
Ask after me in vain. The lips are sealed.

But to keep closer still, and to prevent her
From finding me by any sign or symptom,
I have put off my wings, my bow and quirer.

By every one there was the panther admired,
So fine was his shape and so sleekly attired,
And such an air, both princely and swift,
He had, when giving a sudden lift
To his mighty paw, he'd turn at a sound,
And so stand panting and looking around,
As if he attended a monarch crowned.
And truly, they wondered the more to behold
About his neck a collar of gold,
On which was written, in characters broad,

aces the king to the Nysian God."
So they tied to the collar a golden chain,
And made the panther a captive again,
And by degrees he grew fearful and still,
As if he had lost his lordly will.

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But now came the spring, when free-born love
Calls up nature in forest and grove,
And makes each thing leap forth, and be
Loving, and lovely, and blithe as he.
The panther he felt the thrill o'the air,
And he gave a leap up like that at liis lair;

Yet not the more for that walk I unarmed;

Will ease thee of this little suffering.
zince this which seems a rod, is my good torch, The sage Artesia told them me, and had
So have I wrought deception, and breathes all That little ivory horn of mine in payment,
Invisible flame; and this good dart of mine, Fretted with gold.” So saying, she applied
Though pointed not with gold, is nevertheless To the hurt cheek the lips of her divine
Temper divine; and wheresoe'er it lights,

And most delicious mouth, and with sweet humming Infixes love.

Murmured some verses that I knew not of.

Oh admirable effect! a little while,
And now will I with this,

And all the pain was gone; either by virtue
Pierce with a deep immedicable wound

Of those enchanted words, or as I thought, into the hard heart of the cruellest nymph,

By virtue of those lips of dew, Chat ever followed on Diana's choir.

That heal whate'er they turn them to. No shallower shall it go in Sylvia's bosom,

I, who till then had never had a wish Such is the name of this fair heart of rock)

Beyond the sunny sweetness of her eyes, Chan once it went, years back, out of this hand, Or her dear dulcet words, more dulcet far nto the gentle bosom of Amyntas,

Than the soft murmur of a humming stream When every where he followed her about

Crooking its way ainong the pebble-stones, to chace and sport, young lover his young lass. Or summer airs that babble in the leaves, Ind that my point may go the deeper, I

Felt a new wish move in me to apply Vill wait awhile, till pity mollify

This mouth of mine to hers; and so becoming The blunting ice, which round about her heart Crafty and plotting, (an unusual art Cold honour has kept bound, and virgin niceness ; With me, but it was love's intelligence) ind wheresoe'er it turn to softness most,

I did bethink me of a gentle stratagem here will I lance the dart. And to perform To work out my new wit. I made pretence, so fair a work most finely, I go now

As if the bee had bitten my under lip; .o mingle with the holiday multitude

And fell to lamentations of such sort, Of flowery-crowned shepherds, who are met That the sweet medicine which I dared not ask Iard by in the accustomed place of sport,

With word of mouth, I asked for with my looks. Vhere I will feign me one of them; and there, The simple Sylvia then Cven in this place and fashion, will I strike Compassioning my pain, 1 blow invisible to mortal eye.

Offered to give her help

To that pretended wound; After new fashion shall these woods to day

And oh! the real and the mortal wound, Tear love discoursed; and it shall well be seen

Which pierced into my being, That my divinity is present here

When her lips came on mine. n its own person, not its ministers.

Never did bee from flower will inbreathe high fancies in rude hearts;

Suck sugar so divine, will refine, and render dulcet sweet,

As was the honey that I gathered then
Their tongues; because, wherever I may be, From those twin roses fresh.
Whether with rustic or heroic men,

I could have bathed in them my burning kisses, There am I Love; and inequality,

But fear and shame withheld As it may please me, do I equalize;

That too audacious fire, And 'tis my crowning glory and great miracle

And made them gently hang. To make the rural pipe as eloquent

But while into my bosom's core, the sweetness, Even as the subtlest harp. If my proud mother, Mixed with a secret poison, did go down, Who scorns to have me roving in the woods,

It pierced me so with pleasure, that still feigning
Knows not thus much, 'tis she is blind, not I; The pain of the bee's weapon, I contrived
Though blind I am miscalled by blinded men. That more than once the enchantment was repeated.

From that time forth, desire
And irrepressible pain so grew within me,

That not being able to contain it more,
One day, Sylvia and Phillis I was compelled to speak; and so, one day,
Were sitting underneath a shady beech,

While in a circle a whole set of us,
I with them; when a little ingenious bee,

Shepherds and nymphs, sat playing at the game, Gathering his honey in those flowery fields, In which they tell in one another's ears Lit on the cheeks of Phillis, cheeks as red

Their secret each, “ Sylvia,” said I in her's, As the red rose; and bit, and bit again

“ I burn for thee; and if thou help me not, With so much eagerness, that it appeared

I feel I cannot live.” As I said this, The likeness did beguile him. Phillis, at this, She dropt her lovely looks, and out of them Impatient of the smart, sent up a cry; [grieve; There came a sudden and unusual flush, * Hush! Hush !” said my sweet Sylvia,“ do not Portending shame and anger: not an answer I have a few words of enchantment, Phillis, Did she vouchsafe me, but by a dead silence,



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Broken at last by threats more terrible.

Then among streams and flowers She parted then, and would not hear me more, The little winged Powers Nor see me. And now three times the naked reaper Went singing carols without torch or bow: Has clipped the spiky harvest, and as often The nymphs and shepherds sat The winter shaken down from the fair woods Mingling with innocent chat Their tresses green, since I have tried in vain Sports and low whispers; and with whispers ka Every thing to appease her, except death.

Kisses that would not go. Nothing remains indeed but that I die !

The maiden, budding o'er, And I shall die with pleasure, being certain

Kept not her bloom uneyed,
That it will either please her, or be pitied;

Which now a veil must hide,
And I scarce know which of the two to hope for. Nor the crisp apples which her bosom bore:
Pity perhaps would more remunerate

And oftentimes, in river or in lake,
My faith, more recompence my death; but still The lover and his love their merry bath would tale
I must not hope for aught that would disturb
The sweet and quiet shining of her eyes,

'Twas thou, thou, Honour, first And trouble that fair bosom, built of bliss.

That didst deny our thirst
Its drink, and on the fount thy covering set:

Thou bad'st kind eyes withdraw
O lovely age of gold!

Into constrained awe,
Not that the rivers rolled

And keep the secret for their tears to wet:
With milk, or that the woods dropped honey dew; Thou gatheredst in a net
Not that the ready ground

The tresses from the air,
Produced without a wound,

And mad'st the sports and plays
Or the mild serpent had no tooth that slew; Turn all to sullen ways,
Not that a cloudless blue

And put'st on speech a rein, in steps a care.
For ever was in sight,

Thy work it is,-thou shade that wilt not more.Or that the heaven which burns,

That what was once the gift, is now the theti af And now is cold by turns,

Looked out in glad and everlasting light;
No, nor that ev'n the insolent ships from far

Our sorrows and our pains,
Brought war to no new lands, nor riches worse than These are thy noble gains!
But solely that that vain

[war: But oh, thou Love's and Nature's masterer, And breath-invented pain,

Thou conq’ror of the crowned, That idol of mistakes, that worshipped cheat, What dost thou on this ground, That Honour,since so called

Too small a circle for thy mighty sphere? By vulgar minds appalled,

Go and make slumber dear Played not the tyrant with our nature yet.

To the renowned and high: It had not come to fret

We here, a lowly race, The sweet and happy fold

Can live without thy grace, Of gentle human-kind;

After the use of mild antiquity.
Nor did its hard law bind

Go; let us love; since years
Souls nursed in freedom; but that law of gold, No trace allow, and life soon disappears.
That glad and golden law, all free, all fitted, Go; let us love: the daylight dies, is born;
Which Nature's own hand wrote,– What pleases, But unto us the light
is permitted.

Dies once for all; and sleep brings on eternal night

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SOLITUDE. There was a poet, whose untimely tomb No human hands with pious reverence reared, But the charmed eddies of autumnal winds Built o'er his mouldering bones a pyramid Of mouldering leaves in the waste wilderness : A lovely youth,—no mourning maiden decked With weeping flowers, or white cypress wreath, The lone couch of his everlasting sleep:Gentle, and brave, and generous,-no lorn bard Breathed o'er his dark fate one melodious sigh: He lived, he died, he sang, in solitude. Strangers have wept to hear his passionate notes, And virgins, as unknown he past, have pined And wasted for fond love of his wild eyes. The fire of those orbs has ceased to burn, And silence, too enamoured of that voice, Locks its mute music in her rugged cell.

By solemn vision, and bright silver dream,
His in faucy was nurtured. Every sight
And sound from the vast earth and ambient air,
Sent to his heart its choicest impulses.
The fountains of divine philosophy
Fled not his thirsting lips, and all of great,
Or good, or Lovely, which the sacred past
In truth, or fable consecrates, he felt
And knew. When early youth had past, he left
His cold fireside and alienated home
To seek strange truths in undiscovered lands.
Many a wide waste and tangled wilderness
Has lured his fearful steps; and he has bought
With his sweet voice and


savage men,
His rest and food. Nature's most secret steps
He like her shadow has pursued, where'er
The red volcano over-canopies
Its fields of snow and pinnacles of ice
With burning smoke, or where bitumen lakes
On black bare pointed islets ever beat
With sluggish surge, or where the secret caves,
Rugged and dark, winding among the springs
Of fire and poison, inaccessible
To avarice or pride, their starry domes
Of diamond and of gold expand above
Numberless and immeasurable halls,
Frequent with crystal column, and clear shrines
of pearl, and thrones radiant with chrysolite.
Nor had that scene of ampler majesty
Than gems or gold, the varying of heaven
And the green earth lost in his heart its claims
To love and wonder; he would linger long
In lonesome vales, making the wild his home,
Until the doves and squirrels would partake
From his innocuous hand his bloodless food,

Lured by the gentle meaning of his looks;
And the wild antelope, that starts whene'er
The dry leaf rustles in the brake, suspend
Her timid steps to gaze upon a form
More graceful than her own.

His wandering step,
Obedient to high thoughts, has visited
The awful ruins of the days of old:
Athens, and Tyre, and Balbec, and the waste
Where stood Jerusalem, the fallen towers
Of Babylon, the eternal pyramids,
Memphis and Thebes, and whatsoe'er of strange
Sculptured on alabaster obelisk,
Or jasper tomb, or mutilated sphynx,
Dark Æthiopia in her desert hills
Conceals. Among the ruined temples there,
Stupendous columns, and wild images
Of more than man, where marble dæmons watch
The Zodiac's brazen mystery, and dead men
Hang their mute thoughts on the mute walls around,
He lingered, poring in memorials
Of the world's youth; through the long burning day
Gazed in those speechless shapes, nor, when the moon
Filled the mysterious halls with floating shades
Suspended he that task, but ever gazed
And gazed, till meaniug on his vacant mind
Flashed like strong inspiration, and he saw
The thrilling secrets of the birth of time.




So now my summer task is ended, Mary,
And I return to thee, mine own heart's home;
As to his queen some victor knight of faery,
Earning bright spoils for her enchanted dome;
Nor thou disdain, that ere my fame become
A star among the stars of mortal night,
If it indeed may cleave its natal gloom,
Its doubtful promise thus I would unite
With thy beloved name, thou child of love and light.

The toil which stole from thee so many an hour
Is ended. And the fruit is at thy feet!
No longer where the woods to frame a bower
With interlaced branches mix and meet,
Or where with sound like many voices sweet
Water-falls leap among wild islands green
Which framed for my lone boat a lone retreat
Of moss-grown trees and weeds, shall I be seen:
But beside thee, where still my heart has ever been,

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Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear friend, Though suffering leaves the knowledge and the when first


power, The clouds which wrap this world from youth did Which says:- let scorn be not repaid with scorn. I do remember well the hour which burst

And from thy side two gentle babes are born My spirit's sleep: a fresh Maydawn it was,

To fill our home with smiles, and thus are we When I walked forth upon the glittering grass,

Most fortunate beneath life's beaming morn;
And wept I knew not why; until there rose

And these delights, and thou, have been to me
From the near school-rooin, voices, that alas! The parents of the song I consecrate to thee.
Were but one echo from a world of woes,
The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.

Is it that now my inexperienced fingers

But strike the prelude to a loftier strain?
And then I clasped my hands and looked around- Or must the lyre on which my spirit lingers
But none was near to mock my streaming eyes, Soon pause in silence ne'er to sound again,
Which poured the warm drops on the sunny Though it might shake the anarch Custom's reign,

And charm the minds of men to Truth's own sway,
So without shame, I spake:-“I will be wise, Holier than was Amphion's ? it would sain
And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies

Reply in hope--but I am worn away,

(prey. Such power; for I grow weary to behold

And death and love are yet contending for their
The selfish and the strong still tyrannize
Without reproach or check.” I then controuled

And what art thou; I know, but dare not speak:
My tears, my heart grew calm, and I was meek and Time may interpret to his silent years.

Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek,

And in the light thine ample forehead wears, And from that hour did I with earnest thought And in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears, Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore;

And in thy gentle speech, a prophecy Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught

Is whispered to subdue my fondest fears: I cared to learn, but from that secret store

And through thine eyes, even thy soul I see
Wrought linked armour for my soul, before

A lamp of vestal fire burning internally.
It might walk forth to war among mankind; (more
Thus power and hope were strengthened more and They say that thou wert lovely from thy birth,
Within me, till there came upon my mind

Of glorious parents, thou aspiring child.
A sense of loneliness, a thirst with which I pined.

I wonder not for one then left this earth

Whose life was like a setting planet mild, Alas, that love should be a blight and snare

Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled To those who seek all sympathies in one!

Of its departing glory; still her fame Such once I sought in vain; then black despair,

Shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild The shadow of a starless night, was thrown

Which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim
Over the world in which I moved alone: -

The shelter from thy sire, of an immortal name.
Yet never found I one not false to me,
Hard hearts, and cold, like weights of icy stone One voice came forth from many a mighty spirit,
Which crushed and withered mine, that could not be Which was the echo of three thousand years;

And the tumultuous world stood mute to hear it,
Aught but a lifeless clog until revived by thee.

As some lone man, who in a desart hears Thou friend, whose presence on my wintery heart The music of his home :-unwonted fears Fell like bright spring upon some herbless plain; Fell on the pale oppressors of our race, How beautiful and calm and free thou wert

And faith and custom and low-thoughted cares, In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain

Like thunder-stricken dragons, for a space (place

. Of custom thou didst burst and rend in twain,

Left the torn human heart, their food and dwelling And walked as free as light the clouds among,

Truth's deathless voice pauses among

mankind Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain

If there must be no response to my cry From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung

If men must rise and stamp with fury blind To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long.

On his pure name who loves them,-thou and I, No more alone through the world's wilderness, Sweet friend! can look from our tranquillity Although I trod the paths of high intent,

Like lamps into the world's tempestuous night,-I journeyed now: no more companionless,

Two tranquil stars, while clouds are passing by, Where solitude is like despair, I went.-

Which wrap them from the foundering seaman's
There is the wisdom of a stern content,

When poverty can blight the just and good, That burn from year to year with unextinguished
When infamy dares mock the innocent,
And cherished friends turn with the multitude

To trample: this was ours, and we unshaken stood!

It was a temple, such as mortal hand Now has descended a serener hour,

Has never built, nor ecstacy, nor dream And with inconstant fortune friends return;

Reared in the cities of enchanted land:

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